The heart breaks into million pieces.
Then the million pieces are breaking again a million times more.
The pieces of once a heart settles like dust in the open air.
The wind can’t carry the sorrow the heart carries.
The tides too can’t wash the longing the heart bears.
The rising and setting of the sun will neither help nor the ever-changing seasons.
The heart knows all too well what has been never will be again.
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