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The Writer
She writes
As a ghost writer on her time
The quill spilled on her paper
Wrote her secrets through vintage letters

She had a dream
Not her first love, but her true love, her heart screams
She didn't find the history
It's like her ancient feelings remain a mystery

She writes
She found the perfect words to rhyme
It did nothing but just made her world crashed
Those missing words that she never heard in her past


© RazdaJ

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#poetrycommunity