Each Day.

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As the rain touches the dry earth, I smell freedom from this bitter sweet symphony of life.

Laughter fills the air with memories pouring down, each time a new trip.

Words speaking with a rhythm, thoughts dancing with flare.

Caught up in the time trap, where ten becomes nine.

The mind on strike and hunger playing games.

Running with a speed of impatience.

Losing track ahead.

I bid adieu.

 

P.S: Now try reading it starting from the last line to the first.

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