Description

WeArtDoing-The Boy-Bronze Age

Strolling through the meandering corridors of time,
Masks weathered with age, adorned with rusted grime.
Strolling through the meandering corridors of time,
Masks weathered with age, adorned with rusted grime.
Once-warm memories sealed within the recesses of the mind,
Unable to escape the fate of time’s speckled bind.
The crown gleams with a fantastical illusion,
Even as solitude reigns in the depths of the soul’s seclusion.
To the utopia of imagination, we must journey, steadfast and bold,