New jba bakes Quotes, Status, Photo, Video

Vansh Kumar

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Story of an egg My answer for the riddle - Egg What is sorrunded by food debates for foodies like us ? But yet there's yet no conclusion . Some of us like

Story of an egg My answer for the riddle - Egg What is sorrunded by food debates for foodies like us ? But yet there's yet no conclusion . Some of us like

marmalade ツ

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| Of A Home | The pink walls that smell of candies, butterscotch ice creams and the sugar coated cakes which mum bakes, the yellow pages which intoxicate me to burry my nose into it and just let me breathe, breathe till the wreath hangs onto my grave, but that's fairly impossible for the parts and parcel of life do not accept that. ( caption) | Of A Home | The pink walls that smell of candies, butterscotch ice creams and the sugar coated cakes which mum bakes, the yellow pages w

| Of A Home | The pink walls that smell of candies, butterscotch ice creams and the sugar coated cakes which mum bakes, the yellow pages which intoxicate me to burry my nose into it and just let me breathe, breathe till the wreath hangs onto my grave, but that's fairly impossible for the parts and parcel of life do not accept that. ( caption) | Of A Home | The pink walls that smell of candies, butterscotch ice creams and the sugar coated cakes which mum bakes, the yellow pages w

Sweta

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Tell them that I am sorry... ...tell them to forgive me, now that I have lost my life. //caption A SUICIDE NOTE Tell my mother that I am sorry I never really meant anything I blabbered, Not when I said, she bakes really bad Nor when I s

Tell them that I am sorry... ...tell them to forgive me, now that I have lost my life. //caption A SUICIDE NOTE Tell my mother that I am sorry I never really meant anything I blabbered, Not when I said, she bakes really bad Nor when I s

marmalade ツ

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| caption | °°who are you? °° I search behind the curtains, over the library shelf, amidst the stuffed pages of my diary, in the dates of my history no

| caption | °°who are you? °° I search behind the curtains, over the library shelf, amidst the stuffed pages of my diary, in the dates of my history no