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Maybe it was my fault I saw the moon but, It was just some flickers. I holded myself but the glimpse the night made me fall; again, over and over again. I asked the flowers “Does the moon knows why he’s so pretty?” Flowers simply smiled and asked- Moon and pretty? then I asked it to myself. every time I asked myself. I was not sure about the answer. Until It was the night of glitters again. Everything was now visible. But thought of him fading was burning So does he. He looked red as my love. I got my answer.
