Whom do you want to love?

Whom do you want to love?” Me, the eccentric waif asked a lovely flower.

“If there’s a beetle who returns to me even after knowing, there won’t be even an ounce of nectar left in that flower after it’s being brutally exploited by him.” 

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In the journey forward, I met a beetle and repeated the same question: Whom do you want to love?”

“If there’s a flower who still longs for me even after it was viciously exploited by me.”

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