No one certainly will truly understand wat this earthquake about.

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Broken word is a luxury these days. It can fit to anyone's.

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My notes are crying to loot a place we call library

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Carrying heart which wants quarrel and peace at the same time

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She sees poetry in everything

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The solution is we are awake

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She was not a skimmer of surfaces but you skimmed her

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Ready to write the wrong

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Can't cry, can't breathe but suffocate

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Melancholy is sweet that I am having
In your absence

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