67. Cruel game

Like a lit cigarette after each puff and smoke,

Oh the countless hearts she trampled and broke.


In the end, it gets crushed and stamped on the ground. 

And by then someone else she would have already found. 


But even after centuries, the feeling towards her remain the same.

But my poor soul, when will you learn that love is nothing but a cruel game?


-Rithin. 

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