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A morning comes with its new light thousands of things start afresh and by the time, the darkness falls its time for all things to end The starting is full of joy the ending always forgotten but why, i ask, is the ending so tough like burning in the hot sun

It will too turn to dust

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Someday‚Äôs back, when i was half awake on a hot summer afternoon, I wrote on the wall beside my bed, “And someday it will, too, turn to dust. These words. This wall. Everything.” Today staring at the same thing, i wrote some lines And one day, this will too turn to dust This white wall, … Continue reading It will too turn to dust