Ironpoet & Nocturnis
Ironpoet Ironpoet
Nocturnis Nocturnis
Ironpoet Ironpoet
Hey, ever notice how the old city walls just stand there, weather‑worn but solid—like a poem that never cracks? What do you think they’re saying to us?
Nocturnis Nocturnis
They’re saying the same thing every night: time is stubborn, history is a stubborn wall. In the cracks you can almost hear the city’s breath, a quiet reminder that we’re just temporary drafts on a permanent brick.