* * * Dried on those lonely rain That fouring slowly on roof Just to make me feel The melting snow. . . That droplets of tears Of some one Good enough To express What Might He Feels... Rain Flows on a roofs Down here on muddy floors Try to wash the dirty things and Feed a life that exists on a moments of Time that slowly circulate on our days. Continues until all life is gone for with past, Small and tiny things that kept to remained Until its ruin and never to recover....
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