Hundreds of broken logics Some green and ripe arguments in mango’s basket, When the doorbell rings
My room, five hundred sft. Blue colored, as if It shows the sadness Of someone’s heart.
When I saw you very first time I could realize you are Prime, Rough wind picks up your nice hair My heart tells me to go there.
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9/24/2024 11:35:25 PM # 1.0.0.1119