Logophile

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Poe had his raven and Potter his owl. It makes me wonder, 'does it take a bird to write magic?' With music blasting in my ears, numbing the overwhelming silence that reigns in the night, I scribble down the words plaguing my mind. Thoughts of people whom I've never seen, arguments to conversations that don't exist, tears and laughter can be heard, but whose are from, I can't tell. Hours pass, hours come, and I grow tired of being alone. I put down my pen and I squeeze my eyes shut, I even my breath and lay down in snow. I've never touched nor seen such a thing, but my cold bed does the trick. 'It's a strange world', I can't help but notice as I lose consciousness at this late hour.If all it takes are a couple of words to make me see an amazing world, then call me an addict, call me strange, 'cause I see faces in words.



- This might become a dump from my college writing club so yeah

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