Habits. All kinds of it. Made by us genuinely. How insolent it is to betray oneself. To be selfish. Greedy. I always think that life can't possibly be so unfair. It is true. It is the people. To the night that had not lived. A blossoming flower wilts by the soulless lights of the night as dawn and dusk passed by. Unwilling to cure the flower. Such horror to be told. By the knights of the past. Bickering and libeling. To opine was never an existence. A catastrophic of love. Separating whats supposed to be united. Cursing on the nature of the God's will. Unwilling to abide. Eaten by the sea of tears of no tomorrow. For you I shall knee upon and beg for you and forever all of you.
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