Violet Evergarden: Dolls and Bird Souls

In the morning light when the gunpowder smoke dissipated, the doll held up the broken dream. The gears are silent, the heartbeat is awakening, and violets bloom at the fingertips. The letter dances lightly, the oath of love, the birds return, bringing the distance. Flower feathers fall lightly, hope is reborn, and time is heard in the silence of the stone statue. In the noble courtyard, the moonlight flows, and Violet's protection is gentle and strong. Every word is the image of love, and every smile is the direction of freedom. The glory of the god of war has faded, and the doll is in the human world, looking for his own light. The songs of birds fly through the clouds, love is an eternal line of poetry. On a night when gears crush the gunfire, the puppet holds the broken shell of the chick. The warmth seeping out of the metal joints irrigates the violet that never fades. Hawkins' candies are covered with morning dew, and the pen tip of the automatic notebook doll is dripping with moonlight. When Charlotte's vows turned into white doves, every envelope hid the wings of rebirth. Birds use feathers to measure the length of longing, and dolls piece together the shape of love between the lines. Those words crushed by the flames of war grew into spring vines in the messenger bag. The glory of the demigod has faded, and the illusion of the doll crushing the clouds with its bare feet. The mechanical fingers brushed the folds of the letter paper, and each stroke was a sign of attachment to the human world. When the aurora spread over the sea of ​​iris, the birds picked up fragments of the stars. It turns out that love is not the smoke of the battlefield, it is written by the dolls and the birds together. Poetry that never fades.