This forum is like a graveyard of hope

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When I want to remember the old days full of hope and copes I come back here

In the end, the masses have won

It was all a massive coping
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I pray the gods of psl to give me the power of getting out of this rut and give me renewed energy

sweet dreams wrote:I pray the gods of psl to give me the power of getting out of this rut and give me renewed energy


Nigga, your wish has been granted, now do what you must
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I only cope when I slide my cock inside pussy



indeed this place is not what it used to be, but then what are we?

this garden is the last remnant of psl, with lookism descended into madness, and incels nothing more than cauldron stewed with powerless hatred, sluthate is all that remains of the bygone era, psl.

Although nothing new is being said, no discoveries being made, or new theories being contemplated, it is refreshing revisiting memories of old, like distant dreams, specters of the ancient past enact the play of the bygone era, telling tales lost in the current of time, dancing to the tune only we could hear, so we listen, and we mourn, of what was lost, of the nostalgia of what once was...


it is good to be home
O'my desolate soul
In my desolate home
It's my desolate role
I'm here all alone

Dream wrote:Although nothing new is being said, no discoveries being made, or new theories being contemplated, it is refreshing revisiting memories of old, like distant dreams, specters of the ancient past enact the play of the bygone era, telling tales lost in the current of time, dancing to the tune only we could hear, so we listen, and we mourn, of what was lost, of the nostalgia of what once was...


it is good to be home


It's true that a lot of things get repeated but there are many original stories being told.

Dream wrote:indeed this place is not what it used to be, but then what are we?

this garden is the last remnant of psl, with lookism descended into madness, and incels nothing more than cauldron stewed with powerless hatred, sluthate is all that remains of the bygone era, psl.

Although nothing new is being said, no discoveries being made, or new theories being contemplated, it is refreshing revisiting memories of old, like distant dreams, specters of the ancient past enact the play of the bygone era, telling tales lost in the current of time, dancing to the tune only we could hear, so we listen, and we mourn, of what was lost, of the nostalgia of what once was...


it is good to be home



:oops: :oops:

We are all gonna make it bro




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