journaling

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i dip my pen into my tears and write.

it is pure, jet black ink.

it bleeds through the fibers of my very being.

it runs through my bloodstream.

it is my will to live.

the pressure in my pen explodes.

ruined.

everything ruined..

but I can always start over again.

maybe this time,

blue ink instead...

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⏰ Last updated: Jan 16, 2020 ⏰

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