She never wrote
with pencils, ink
or typewriters. She
let her words and
stories flow from
her soul. The scars 
have faded over time
but her stories 
are still steeped in
pain. Her words
are coated in
the bitterness of
her mind despite
the fact that 
she does not 
taste it anymore.
She writes the 
stories that her
spirit longs to 
share; but her
lips cannot bare
to say. She wishes
to be immune to 
the trials and
tribulations of
the world,
to put on rose
coloured glasses
and be blind
to the pain
she writes of. 


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