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Friday, December 9, 2011


I feel like I'm just a piece of used paper, a piece of old newspaper, a feather,

just drifting about,without a destination. I just drift, without anyone to care.

I don't know the mistakes I've done. All I know, everything I do, that went wrong.

I should just drift where the wind blows. I just drift, slowly and gently.

If its meant for me to land on a familiar ground, I don't mind.

And if it doesn't, I just drift until I reach my heaven.

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