To hell and back. For better or worse. Through thick and thin.
The lost promises. The ashes of dreams. A roll of disappointments.
Familiarity? Back and forth between reality and sweet. Know, want, need.
Looping songs that writes the tales of the heart. What significance does it have, but only to me?
New stitches, material, blend of colours – no detergent could hide the stench of murky deeds.
Boxes of knowledge, the willingness to learn, the efforts were none. Lost time and hope is like fishing at the sewage.
Naive? I wouldn’t say.
My Hakawati, you’re now lost.
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I hope you are okay? *hugs