night breezes seems to whisper I love you,
birds singing in the sycamore trees-dream a little dream of me.
- October song
I just miss the way we came from.
The way we used to live. The way we used to be.
How we used to be a little child with a good care and never care almost tiny things in life.
How we used to be free to do anything without care about others.
I love the way to know that lie is not a good thing that makes you to learn.
Anyway, sometimes it can make some people feel safe in their life.
Who cares if a man cries..
Who would believe that when a romantic man fails in searching his true love.
I missed everything that came from you.
Even your lie, and sometimes even your curse.
I not hate you just because you break your promise,
but because of your foolishness that never think before you make a promise.
Rain. Rain. Go away,
come again another day,
it is not a good way,
to see you block the ray.
When you are having a broken heart, what hurt the most is not your heart but God.
It seems that His slave loves His creature more than loving Him.
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