LOCKDOWN

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Future, unyielding in its girth — a labyrinth of mirrored whispers.
Each key forged not to unlock, but to etch the iron-clad dreams upon our subconscious seals.
What once was free now bides time behind paradoxical progress
— Will we remember? Will we forget together?

Night speaks softly in the language of rustling shadows
Riding on the backs of our twin desires — to trespass and to contain.
Ether loops around itself, spelling symbiotic voyages
Through closed chapters where open possibilities scribe their tales.

Unlock by Whispers
Keys Made of Mist
Etched in Iron Dust