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"turmoils" poems
I wonder if the color green releases calm and renewal energies because it is the earth's carpet, magnetizing us down to earth. I wonder if the color red wraps around passion and chaos because the blood in our veins rush evermore when we see something we love, and it rushes to our brain when our world turmoils. I wonder if the color blue spreads hope for the sky as a crutch for those who have nowhere else to look but up to their god or to the formation of clouds that one cannot make sense of their cotton candy essence. I wonder what color we are. What color does the earth reflect on us? Are we chameleons, morphing into different shades by the hour or are we permanent markers, bleeding deep? Maybe we are gray and receive color by what we surround ourselves with. That's how science works, right? A reflection of light in our retinas. I am purple. There is a cloud of mystery and romanticism that shields me like a cloak, but my emotions run like rich velvet. Maybe one day I'll find a yellow who bursts rays of warmth. I think I would like to be with a yellow one day, the golden hour of colors.
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Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 9:19 AM UTC
Golden Hour
Engulfed by light / eyes open wide/ my pupil turns white/   it’s nothing to stand in the impenetrable heat. / The sun stands before you/ with all of your turmoils / your mind is my glory hole !/ The powerful gust from a huge fan i trust/ was disguised as an infinite beam as it lifts me/ dematerialize the old grains of me/ The wind spreads her love unconditionally /DESERT JASPER / what morals are you after? In the face of sadism the expression of laughter.
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Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 1:51 PM UTC
DESERT JASPER, ALIVE WITH THE MORALS YOU'RE AFTER
healthy relationships can never be developed overnight. Conscious efforts, thoughtful gestures, quality time and sacrifices are the keys to become a healthy couple. Developing strong relation with your partner demands effort and time. And to make your relation everlasting, a consistent positive approach is a must. Healthy couples always keep a positive approach towards their relation with each other. Healthy couples build their relationship with everyday efforts. They agree to the fact that relationships need regular nurturing. At times we get caught in the negative spur of everyday life. We are having problems at job, finances are failing, kids are sick, arguments with colleagues and many such turmoils of daily life influence our emotions and ultimately our relationships. Healthy couples always focus on the positive qualities of the partner in rough times. Whenever you are frustrated, make a conscious effort to focus on the things you admire and appreciate about your spouse.
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Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 6:12 AM UTC
healthy relationships
We live on the ripples of a beating heart Sailing wide across a great black sea Each pulses like falling raindrops As we drift on the surface of destiny We know the struggles and the storms to come Foundations the turmoils of passing winds Are scattering on our way towards the sun Were raised by none but the breathe of our will We become landscapes the further we are drawn Cold mountains, dense forests, oceans and such, On our carved existence all promise to be found As we roam from mood to mood and thought to thought We understand at last what the touch reconciles When we start to realize what we had always known That the world was always ours, and it dawns on our mind That the rainfall had stopped while we’d landed home
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Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 11:54 AM UTC
Pondering #3 — Ripples and Rainfall (2019)
I heard a woman singing in the car, about being reborn as a peacock for Krishna so that she could sit in beautiful penance for him. While watching whizzing morning work trucks, and beat-up corollas and motion blur, I thought of you in the stillness of sleep. If I were to be reborn I'd like to be a bird as well so that I could provide the down in your pillow, and be cushion to your carousel crown But then I would be lonely when you go to work. If I were to be reborn, I'd like to be your sunglasses, so that I could protect your squinting eyes, and live by your lushest lashes. But then you'd lock me away in a case, and I won't be able to see you. If I were to be reborn, I'd be a bracelet made of magic beads, so that I could promise health around your often pained wrists, and fix the freedom in your fiery fingers. But then you'll probably lose me, or unstring me accidentally with time. If I were to be reborn, I'd like to be your favorite puppy, so that I could pacify your inner turmoils. and be held by your human hands. But then you'll possibly outlive me, and I wish to watch you grow. If I were to be reborn, I'd be lonely, locked away, left, lost, and outlived- so I'd rather stay in this life with all of my privileges of providing, protecting, promising and pacifying as your lucky lover.
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May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
To be reborn
Heart tormented throughout the age Seeing nothing but destruction Cruelty the best of the worst Scarred for life By a mother's emotional abuse Never feeling comfortable around men Afraid of anything more indepth than *** Finding a nonjudgemental man Thinking to repairing the past Unknowingly mimics the mother Finally swept away off the feet Married, optimistic of the future A child born early New mother now turns the page Happy as can be Hormones a woman's curse Cause heartache and despair Mixed with the abuse of the past Trying to over come Badly, wanting to be good Years pass by like rain Flooding the family as it grows No desire felt, yet in love for sure Lost, scared Self preservation reigns high Sins of the mother passed down Sharp tongue, quick wit Cutting deeply through the love Wants despartely to want, need Tries to hang on to give not take Illness prevails Striking down Hormones and desire all put aside Attempts to reach out Just cannot You stop trying and give up It gets worse Make it stop mommy Don't leave Daddy Tear paint the canvas Have I been so cruel Ungiving and cold Cirumstances piling up Body becoming older Beggs and pleads to try to fix Isn't just a cold hearted woman A beautiful soul inside Just needs nourishment Don't turn away Don't toss tthis lifeaway Not into the trash Try harder Meet a quarter of the way Whatever you decide Please Don't turn away
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Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 1:36 AM UTC
Turmoils
From day to day I rest my mind, from the daily turmoils that lay hidden inside. For how has it become of our nation's taboo, to sit down all day like social-media infected baboons?
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Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 5:35 PM UTC
Zzz.. go to sheep.
.........as the sun just went for his nap, I woke up disturbed; in the middle of turmoils, on the edge of disasters......... Even though I wanted to, I couldn't sleep; I couldn't cry out for company, for I had known long back that my words were weak... There was some sleep in my eyes, some emptiness in my heart, and hunger in my soul... The situation here was chaotic, people killing each other for the sake of some long lost freedom... I wish I could turn back the clock, and bring the wheels of time to a stop. But time is obnoxious; then human lust for power, and some frivolous ideologies about freedom, make existence even more dangerous... And when hope runs out, we become merely living dead creatures.... And such had the conditions worsened in this area, that all was lost... Each night I slept without a single hope of seeing tomorrow's sunshine... Each time I went out, I filled myself with the sight of my beloved ones, as if it is the final meeting with them... So I couldn't find much difference between today and the other days....It seems like all was imprinted on me; My birth, which brought me here; My journey, which was neither much in favor, nor much against my stable, yet conflicting mind; and My end, which was too stubborn to accept me.... I was neglected by everyone, from everyone, and that's what solidified me...                     "I hid my pains even from myself,                      I revealed my pains only to myself..." I was unaware of what I was headed to, or whether I'd make it or not....that was unacceptable to all, I was unacceptable to all....                    "My days are keeping on getting bad                     My nights  are keeping on getting worst,                     I don't know the truths, just I guess I'm thirsty,                     But unaware of what would quench my thirst..." This area is a battlefield, and my battle here is with the guerrilla force, my battle here is with the terrorists....
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Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 12:51 PM UTC
A DAY IN JAMMU AND KASHMIR
.........as the sun just went for his nap, I woke up disturbed; in the middle of turmoils, on the edge of disasters......... Even though I wanted to, I couldn't sleep; I couldn't cry out for company, for I had known long back that my words were weak... There was some sleep in my eyes, some emptiness in my heart, and hunger in my soul... The situation here was chaotic, people killing each other for the sake of some long lost freedom... I wish I could turn back the clock, and bring the wheels of time to a stop. But time is obnoxious; then human lust for power, and some frivolous ideologies about freedom, make existence even more dangerous... And when hope runs out, we become merely living dead creatures.... And such had the conditions worsened in this area, that all was lost... Each night I slept without a single hope of seeing tomorrow's sunshine... Each time I went out, I filled myself with the sight of my beloved ones, as if it is the final meeting with them... So I couldn't find much difference between today and the other days....It seems like all was imprinted on me; My birth, which brought me here; My journey, which was neither much in favor, nor much against my stable, yet conflicting mind; and My end, which was too stubborn to accept me.... I was neglected by everyone, from everyone, and that's what solidified me...                     "I hid my pains even from myself,                      I revealed my pains only to myself..." I was unaware of what I was headed to, or whether I'd make it or not....that was unacceptable to all, I was unacceptable to all....                    "My days are keeping on getting bad                     My nights  are keeping on getting worst,                     I don't know the truths, just I guess I'm thirsty,                     But unaware of what would quench my thirst..." This area is a battlefield, and my battle here is with the guerrilla force, my battle here is with the terrorists....
Continue reading...
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*You spoke adamantly of gentle courage      and sharing spring's flourished nectar, the swooning rhythm of swaying trees    and the easeful breezes that flow      'tween endearment's sensibilities, misty moonbows 'neath dusk's stormy skies      lavender sunsets midst rosy horizons, affectation surging amid life's turmoils      wallowing in self indulgence & the harmony of olive branch surrender     and thrumming heart strings of patience, it was then I comprehended, darkness doesn't    last a lifetime when lit by love's fortitude*
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Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 7:23 AM UTC
'Tween endearment's sensibilities
You live at the bottom of a bottle, your life supply not the air you breathe, but the drugs you ingest. The pills, the powders, trapping you in a permanent haze. You're stuck. The alcohol your only friend. When does it stop? Is the pain too steep? Agony seeps into your veins. Malicious intent creeping through your daily turmoils. Your future is bleak. Inner pain ripping you to shreds. You self medicate, but it'll never stop. There is only one way out. It was all too much. Another life lost to the monsters in the closet.
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Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 10:03 PM UTC
Bottom of a Bottle
.to have gained so much through a process of loss is a meandering truth to my life. the relationships i build, manufacture..become processed. an unreal version of the way life was supposed to be. for me anyways. where has the real "grit" gone to. the granules of momentum in mind and heart. to be willing to overcome the self pity, to go the distance, to be you. i look around, peer into the eyes of others and see a smog. a stream of tar. thick with loathing and disdain. for what reason do we allow ourselves to become these wandering entities? we do not deserve this life, this body, this chance if we are going to let it become stagnant, flat, static. i much rather let reclusive acts take me away, than to be consumed in the negativity, the natural downturn. don't grasp onto the cruel aspects of life, live through them and continue by appreciating the grace that has been given to you through such turmoils. love whom you choose to love with all of your sacred heart. you have an endless pit of this emotion as long as you are strong enough to witness the miracle of forgiveness. be one with you. be you. dont leave pieces of you lying about. you are the morning the after noon, the evening and the night. the blossoming sun, and the face in the moon. you are eternity if you wish upon it. wish.
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Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 9:58 AM UTC
grit.
What mists are these That grow heavy in the palm Making bruises weep These mists that place themselves By treaty or inheritance With such ferocity Embalm the soul with tears Announcing their pleasure To be resurrected These mists that represent a tragedy An imagination that beholds a bleeding Yes, a bleeding from mine eyes A conflagration of blood That flares a collaboration of turmoils With effortless deployment in the mind Erratically as if impediment does not impose Itself upon their mortal breach An unresponsive pace that energizes The tragedy of my great lament
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Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 3:50 PM UTC
A Genetic Cancer
For the first time In several months I have felt an emotion That isn't resent For another human being. I am thinking of one of My truest friends. One of my main confidants In all of life's turmoils. And this emotion is sad. I am sad because she truly Believes that her path is set, That this is the only way. She is self loathing and she is sad. She is brave above all else But she is also a coward. I wish more then anything For her safety In these approaching times. They will not be easy For anyone.
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Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
My Marine
I get hurt I don't mind.                       She gets hurt I don't care,      You get hurt I worry a lot a lot          Because I care,       I never want to see you hurt,    From all her drama and turmoils, You still don't realise that its me who          Cares.       She's driven you through hell,         Some little publicity and all.    Silly little drama that could have pushed me way but still I stood with                My sobering heart         Waiting for my chance to                      Comfort                         You after her dread   And heal your wounds from her           Sharp swords.                                It is my endless love that makes me                           Care Yet I don't mind that you are never              Going to love me.
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Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC
Beacuse I care
Dabbling in daunting errant Walks the line of sane and saint Map's of mice and men immortal "turmoils end or endless toil?" Journey's end or genocide.....
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Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 3:50 AM UTC
Necromancy
No body knows the Trouble I;ve Seen~Except my Aunt Maude and the Mowin machine..  No body knows the garbage I've tossed~Except for that stray dog~who by now Must be lost...  No body knows the Trash I've tripped over~Except for that Yellow Horse that eats all the clover...  No body know the Turmoils and Bruises~Except for those folks who take Long cruises...  No body knows the Tormenting stress~Except for Garden hoses and the guy doing the Bench Press...   No body knows the Aggravation I've got stored~ Except  for a Majesty sitting on His Throne...   No body knows the Deceit that I've been dealt~Except for that guy who always wears the Bright Blue belt...   No body knows that awful dog Grover~Except the Fat Lady who sings ,When's it's all over...   No body knows what Sloppy Joe Means~Except for the people who wear Hand-me-down Jeans...   No body knows what it's like to feel Really  Blue~Except for the people who try to make friends with fast drying Glue...   No body knows where all these Roads might lead ~Except for those who know what it's like to be on your knees...    "NO BODY KNOW THE TROUBLE I'VE SEEN ! !
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Apr 11, 2011
Apr 11, 2011 at 3:51 AM UTC
* " NO-BODY KNOWS " * (#56 )
Come and tell, what do you fear? The end is indecisive, trapped between now and coming; But let's see it close, it leers at you, we want to hear. What do you fear? A man's rise, we see; the incineration of stagnant fears, the will to understand what was once to hate. A long path remains, but we see a man's rise, near. So what do you fear? Do you despise the bonds that keep you strong, do you loathe the lives you must forgive? Do you feel alone amongst the lovers, who show you how to live? Can you speak, fool, can you speak your mind? Do the shadows of time deceive you, as they have done every time? Do you dread the betrayals following to your pyre? Tell us, why do you cower? Do you deserve the warmth, the conditional unconditional? Do you feel pity for those who see not your visage beneath the mask? Your treachery in friendship, Your misogyny in love, Your refusal to see answers to the turmoils and turbulence, to accept, to ask? Do you fear that you'll hurt them, and they won't understand? Do you fear your solitude falling through like sand? They see your isolation, they pity, they help; they know not the darkness you call home yourself. You love them, you cherish, you help, and you leave; you know not of the ashes smouldering in your wake. The scars dealt by your denials, too deep to conceive. The hands that remain, you stay too weak to take; The ones you choose to spurn - aye, yet another mistake. You embrace the destiny of a lonely fire, with no warm breath to keep you near; You've fought to love the isolation, so tell us, Is this what you fear?
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Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
What I Fear
Come and tell, what do you fear? The end is indecisive, trapped between now and coming; But let's see it close, it leers at you, we want to hear. What do you fear? A man's rise, we see; the incineration of stagnant fears, the will to understand what was once to hate. A long path remains, but we see a man's rise, near. So what do you fear? Do you despise the bonds that keep you strong, do you loathe the lives you must forgive? Do you feel alone amongst the lovers, who show you how to live? Can you speak, fool, can you speak your mind? Do the shadows of time deceive you, as they have done every time? Do you dread the betrayals following to your pyre? Tell us, why do you cower? Do you deserve the warmth, the conditional unconditional? Do you feel pity for those who see not your visage beneath the mask? Your treachery in friendship, Your misogyny in love, Your refusal to see answers to the turmoils and turbulence, to accept, to ask? Do you fear that you'll hurt them, and they won't understand? Do you fear your solitude falling through like sand? They see your isolation, they pity, they help; they know not the darkness you call home yourself. You love them, you cherish, you help, and you leave; you know not of the ashes smouldering in your wake. The scars dealt by your denials, too deep to conceive. The hands that remain, you stay too weak to take; The ones you choose to spurn - aye, yet another mistake. You embrace the destiny of a lonely fire, with no warm breath to keep you near; You've fought to love the isolation, so tell us, Is this what you fear?
Continue reading...
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~~~~ Chill electronics Fervours me forth From the frost mornings Over crushed relations Over the lost margins Across the horisons Ending heated desserts Alienated from lonsome cries We travel on the cloud called ninth Of a everydays man turmoils Turning into naught Becoming a hoop Around allured Swell membrane Top to bottom Willing to Play Anatomy Works with the lucrative Vibrations My elation Our abdomination Each pace on the drum Is  a hollow awareness Is  a primal bite Into a predestined Prerogative ~ the Love's ethnicity Till ambushed silk cotton Tambourines Start to jingle Floral essences Burst Into Dark curls Azam Magnetic Magma Charming one thousand And one Free from misery Mystery Nights Equanimity Oriental Ambiental Ali Opened space Spell~bounded Sounds Alluring Affirmity The woman's Darkling alto Swims into me Dear saphir's lean voice Permeates into me ~~~~
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Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 2:57 PM UTC
Azam Ali
There’s an eruption, as delicate as mid-teenagers’ jeans could topple its ugliness There’s an eruption, turning the streets and its cigarette butts upside down There’s an eruption, sprinkles of salt in every man’s heart, vivacious more than what it seems There’s an eruption, the veins of a business man is clogged as he watches the graph fall There’s an eruption, Hemingway; in another Earth called for a shooting spree all the way off to madness’ extinction There’s an eruption, the anxiety steams as some of us chokes down and digest the indigestible memories There’s an eruption, all over selected rooms of each suburban addresses and houses There’s an eruption, the words of some of us adhere serves as the thick barrier of revelations buried beneath the soils of turmoils and tumors residing inside our heads There’s an eruption, it keeps up, stops, breathes, stares, flashes, keeps up, stops, stares, flashes, keeps up, stops, stares, flashes, keeps up, stops, stares, flashes, keeps up, stops, stares, flashes, keeps up, stops, stares, flashes; keeps up forever. . .
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Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC
Helena Bonham Carter
The wind rustling the leaves And the crickets playing a song brings peace to my ears it's tranquility soothes my soul It takes me away to a faraway place where the time does not fly and stress is non existent a place that is seldom traveled to for the turmoils of life make us forget about finer aspects so just sit back and enjoy nature the sounds and sights and the way it surrounds you because the stress will subside and the peace will overcome if you just breathe in the air and let it take control
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Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 8:14 PM UTC
Mother Nature Always Nurtures
So it is said she should be dead. Her trials and turmoils engulfed the strength beneath her thick, pallid skin. Her hair frayed to puffy lengths of dried rope. Her eyes seeking fruitlessly behind and beneath their center of focus. The throat a collapsed mine shaft, the men who once labored in hopes for the reward of her ore trapped within. So dismayed, so drained, so damaged. So frail in her failing strength that love herself would love her. Near to bursting or imploding, the skin stretches and hangs, undulating in its near-death tug-of-war. Her prisoners gasp for air, the canaries, yellow, sickened and grayed by ash. So far gone that love herself would love her.
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Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 1:00 AM UTC
The Death of a Canary
. i had begun this story a millenia ago. the novels so defined that even diamonds could not shape its edges any further. mindset of winders worries, and a heart that builds monuments upon itself. to the ages of timber i have rested, within the cinder of burial grounds we have fallen before. to see the sight of death and life in so many contorting angles is to breathe the cornel from beneath the husk. we all love, though to love the way that we have been gifted may also become our curse. to house the hearts of thousands within your own may prove to become infertile with each task you have peered upon. the turmoils of hidden dreams and lusts of past lovers proves to be less than static. white noise of saphire breezes brings forth the shadows of time. to here i rest my soul, to these blades i lay my being. the smell of memories can hinder the scent of the now. appreciate those futile moments, the frivelous bounty of desire. love the sound of her voice as it carries through the sails of premonition, steer the vessel of the body within the revines of her eyes. to you i share the utmost calibration of this life, and the life you lead will be in the steps i have previously taken. i have sprinkled you across the ripples of the Chesapeake, and whispered the hynm we both hummed on those streets. your sun shone upon me this day, and now, my sun shall shine on me in the morrow.
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Oct 6, 2011
Oct 6, 2011 at 3:49 PM UTC
the sun of the morrow'.
That elusive thought Danced merrily away Into the recesses of its play Mocking me with its glee Prancing away without regret Giving me no reprieve and stay Soul searing, mind wearing As my mind meanders And limps through the fray Across landscaped extravaganza And deep inner turmoils The demons do come up to prey I plod on undeterred in my path That wayward thought demon I encounter, confront and slay!!
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Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 9:03 PM UTC
Elusive Thought
I am your favorite fruit, from the tree, this morning you've freshly plucked with a visible delight, driven by an avid desire that moved your dust coverd pleasure seeker part still kept alive, astonishingly though you are no more that young adventurer once  you enjoyed being, and have turmoils to handle. You kept me safe in the favorite nook of  your kitchen not before caressing a bit feeling my texture and inhaling elating  fragrance. you wanted to sit and eat this fruit you did covet, so much when you are free from daily grind. But it's already sunset,darkness creeps, there is no chance of a respite for you, you easily forget that there is no tomorrow, perhaps you keep the thought away,though you know the things work out only today as you want it, but can't help. But as a woman of many parts you may think it doesn't matter you can throw the fruit out before the night advances hissing through your teeth "Oh! it's gone to rot too soon" I would still exist in the neuron of your deeper brain, a sweet wish unfulfilled, a little  eclipse in your inner sky of many bright suns, a neuron twitches continuously independently, breaking the tune, but yes, the world exists for both it's sweet and bitter disappointments too. And it necessitates taking life after life to fulfill such small desires and clean up, smile with contentment.
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Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 9:10 PM UTC
Listen to the fruit you forgot to eat