In the Depths of Madness

I am not here to compete, nor to parade my eloquence. My words are not a battleground, but vessels—hollow and waiting.

Dip yourself into their depths, and you’ll find more than ink and syllables. There, your madness flows, intertwining with my veins. It pulses, a tempest, more potent than mere blood.

In this quiet rebellion, we become more than words. We become whispers, etched into the marrow of existence.

Copyright © Beatriz Esmer