Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing.
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A short cut in life has never been an option. Spilling of blood for surviving has never been an option. No matter how rocky your life can get never turn to annihilate, never turn to annulling. Every output have it's consequences.