Love is such an itchy business. I keep scraping myself till the skin is cut and blood is out. Though it heals soon with a stitch to forget everything, injects a disgusting impression with the poisoned lance. See me through, I'm like a patient badly stitched all over and running in and out of ICU. I'm irritating to myself for hoping the ambiance will change back to 'Singing'
I know, you are sure laughing at my analogy. Enough. I haven't written it for your entertainment. I will kill you, if I see you laughing.
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