" What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise.....-Oscar wilde"
And he was still weeping over the things that he don't give a hoot about and the climate perfectly incarnates the soul searing stuff that running through his over sharpened grey cells .
The corner which he stood is hardly noticed by the passers go by.the bustling stream of people whose haste enhanced by the gloomy sky won't care about his fucking identity .
Yesterday's fragrances of lovemaking still dripping from his branded worn & torn leather jacket with only thing in his mind is to cross that one ended street .he might feel that he may not feel that kid's love for the rain whose clothes awaiting a downpour to clean them.
And he was still weeping over the things that he don't give a hoot about and the climate perfectly incarnates the soul searing stuff that running through his over sharpened grey cells .
The corner which he stood is hardly noticed by the passers go by.the bustling stream of people whose haste enhanced by the gloomy sky won't care about his fucking identity .
Yesterday's fragrances of lovemaking still dripping from his branded worn & torn leather jacket with only thing in his mind is to cross that one ended street .he might feel that he may not feel that kid's love for the rain whose clothes awaiting a downpour to clean them.
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