For their souls were all in torment, While their bodies uncovered lay, And never a moment’s rest was theirs, Either by night or day. That was a place of wailings, And the grisly things of Death,– The bare black arms of the trees above, And the black quag underneath. ...
at this point i was fatigued again for seemingly no reason, but more of my joints had started to freak out instead of improving like i had hoped. being stupid tired and unexplained pain goes hand in hand; i did more sleeping than i would have preferred yesterdat while dragging my way th...