My past keep hunting me no matter how far I run—
I can't escape from it.
YOU ARE READING
Love of Roses [Poetry & Prose]
PoetryRoses are the flowers of Love; You are a rose That blooms on sunrise, And fell in sunset. Roses are the poems of love; You are the words I wrote, The rythmns of letters, For I am yours, And you are mine.
Hunt
My past keep hunting me no matter how far I run—
I can't escape from it.
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