A raging river streams against a stone in its central, it splits in two Lives in asunder. When in deed a doubt can never quite come in between the two, i was never the same; feeling uncertain and unsure of which ones to accomplish.
Can one just take a rose of thorns and listen to their singing voices.
Untamed and running while into the wide spectrum she strut her stuff, isn't she something, quite unlike any other you have seen before, nor do you ever wish to see some of them the same again, for the same thing just never quite happen when you want it most. And in its bosom, lives lives that are worth living and life's worth sacrificing for the better of the lesser, and while the greater does less than just devour and grow in strength, in its need to be the improvement that is in need it decreases the flow of life elsewhere in the whole drainage.
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