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He ride us through the potholes of his han

He ride us through the potholes of his hands and bleed it to make me, my brother and mom loathe him whenever we together go on his bike. And we ignore him like we cut him from the frame of photo. But he still conveys the hill of our tongue.
He ride us through the potholes of his hands and bleed it to make me, my brother and mom loathe him whenever we together go on his bike. And we ignore him like we cut him from the frame of photo. But he still conveys the hill of our tongue.
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Ashu

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