The ceiling of the pouring rainIs up there on the floor of the gods.I drag my luggage on the sand,Carrying all of my understandings.
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A hideout of an opened heartbeat
The ceiling of the pouring rainIs up there on the floor of the gods.I drag my luggage on the sand,Carrying all of my understandings.
Read MoreWhen things get too tough and you feel like you have tasted enough. Hang. Hang the phones. Don’t hang yourself.
Read MoreIt’s not an option to be weak. But a friend like me is not here for bad treats.
Read MoreHere is a short story before I make a quick (and safe) run to my college. It is going to be a 30-kilometer drive with my motorbike. He is decent and I entrust him for the task. But the highway isn’t always safe these days…
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