《Litterature》yabber

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Write, write, write.

That's all I do.

Adjectives, adverbs,

descriptions.

Love on paper;

inked affection.

After everything,

I still don't get it.

I shouldn't be writing.

This is stupid.

Why do I even try?

My heart

is connected to my hands;

writing whatever I feel,

unconsciously.

Why?

Maybe, it's my love.

I guess when I love,

I love differently.

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