Title: वैकल्पिक

Text: My knuckles were bruised like violets. Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep talked. Spineless in my tomb of silence. Tore your banners down, took the battle underground. And maybe it was ego-swinging, maybe it was her. Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur. All that blood-shed crimson clover, uh huh. Sweet dream was over. My hand was the one you reached for all throughout the great war. प्रत्येक पराग्राफले परीक्षण हुनेछ।

Save test: यदि तपाईं यो टाइपिङ परीक्षणलाई साझा गर्न चाहानुहुन्छ भने यो प्रयोग गर्नुहोस् (केवल प्रमाणीकृत प्रयोगकर्ताहरूको लागि)।