I am a daughter of a warrior, a warrior who lost his childhood to communist sob stories. He raised his baby girl to dance in between the massacre of his struggles so she can groove harder than a rebel. So I offer you my swag of hood and I'll pop the collars of those who digs it. My growth up rocks from the past. So breathe young blood, breathe. For we're all witnesses to the ugly and the beauty.No matter how gritty or amazing, I remain goddamn blessed.
-I live in the soul of my warrior daddy-
17 May 2010 — 28 views, 1 favorite
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Q: How can we write our story in hindi fonts
A: Do you know?