Life is too short like a bush that would bloom in the morning, some may throw a vigorous smile in the direction of the sun, some may take a good bath to chill down their throbbing root whenever the rain flows, some would cry when the heavy wind caresses their cheeks a bit harsh but would decades in the evening like it didn't bloom in the first place. And the next morning another will replace the old bush not aware of it won't remain stable for a day. In between these life circles we human lives our life filling our hearts full of wrath, revenge, anger, jealousy, anguish, etc, etc even I can't figure out whatever they would keep on their plate. But one thing is sure. There is no love remains on their plate. For which we failed to notice whatever losses we have faced until a day knocks on our door, the day of our last breath releases from the earth that we can't retrieve any sin we had committed in the past and can't amend all our mis
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