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    Walking through the lanes of serendipity,     Stuck in between the agony of love and life,      And just like that passenger on a train,     whose destination is a place but not the train.     Who could come rest his shoulder on the windows wondering about the planes     I chose myself.     Stuck in between,     The days where I can live,     Or the nights where I can dream,     And yes, I found those sunsets,     Where I wrote those letters.     Which rests on my desk.     Untouched for months, gazing at me, requesting me to send them.     I chose sunsets.     Stuck in between,     The mountains that were my strength,     Or the oceans which made my serenity.     I chose valleys.     Now thinking of the conjectures,     Somewhere down the lane proved untrue.๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’œ                                                                                                                                                             -เค–ुเคถเคฌू 

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