Men can carry me to their grave though I never truly die. I live in happiness through people who know me. Some never find me; others get children from me yet most men look for me. Instead, they find someone else. What am I?
This entry was posted by monibrown on February 3, 2011 at 8:01 am, and is filed under Riddles. Follow any responses to this post through RSS 2.0.Both comments and pings are currently closed.
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