Photo by Aimee Vogelsang on Unsplash
Life is moving at a very slow pace;
There is neither happiness's delight nor sorrow's clamour.
This journey will be cut short—
Yet there will be no one else in my heart except him.
The tears in my eyes have also begun to dry up;
What to tell you, how much I have started breaking down.
In my broken wishes, there are thousands of dreams—
There is a lot of heartache in this small heart.
How vulnerable we are, like flowers,
Which are sometimes broken by luck and sometimes broken by humans.
Whatever it was that used to make me happy in life has now become the source of my disintegration!
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