I have to write. This is not a choice, it is a must. Words are crumbled on my chest. Just let them out.
I have to write.
It will not make the world a better place. But it just might. My words are strangled by my own fight. And I must write.
To read them back at least, it all feels right. Strange how an imaginary things can give you might. Oh what a sight. I need need to write.
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