I couldn't say that what I write is real. Sometimes they are, sometimes they just aren't. The random letters became the purest of me. The rawest of my thoughts put into words for people that may be real, or an imagination of this creative mind.
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I couldn't say that what I write is real. Sometimes they are, sometimes they just aren't. The random letters became the purest of me. The rawest of my thoughts put into words for people that may be real, or an imagination of this creative mind.
Lily was a 20 year old girl. She had travelled alone to achieve her dream of exploring the world, little did she know it was the last time she would see said world.
Trapped in the hands of men, Lily...