Scribbled out

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There are some things I need to write. Mostly nonsense, but some words so very much prefer paper. They like to be all spilled out beautifully in front of you. They cannot be spoken because what is spoken is judged and often quickly forgotten. A piece of paper with some ink may seem meaningless, but it can age with you until it becomes timeless. I guess I am writing because of the power. You can feel life in the pen; a story waiting to be told.

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