Some secrets of mine,
Washed with the rains,
Flooded the streets common,
And clogged the drains,
But yet I hold in some,
The deepest, faded even for me,
For you’ll see me different,
The blood on my hands,
The bruises on my Chin….
Some secrets of mine,
Washed with the rains,
Flooded the streets common,
And clogged the drains,
But yet I hold in some,
The deepest, faded even for me,
For you’ll see me different,
The blood on my hands,
The bruises on my Chin….
Deep!
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Thank you. 😇
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Deep and profound!
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Thank you Nawaz. Hope you are well. 😇
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I am good! How are you?
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Main bhi awesome. 😇
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Interesting perspective for both the photo and the verse. We often take those hard knocks on the chin without complaining. Looking down, we pause to swallow the pain and soldier on.
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Indeed Lily. That’s what drives us to move ahead. 😇😇
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very deep Kumar and I’m glad some that were too heavy to hold made it down the drain or at least out of you. This sounds like a continuation? I’ll be waiting…. ❤️ Cindy
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Maybe Cindy. Let’s see. 😇😇
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we shall see… ❤️
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😇😇
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Nice one bro❤️
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A whirlwind of emotions in this one! Some secrets and some blows better remain hidden, I guess. If exposed, they can wreak havoc. Beautiful, Harsh. ❤️
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Thank you Rishika. 😇
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