I write, not to make things right,
But i write, to convince myself it was never meant to be right.
.
I write not to be flushed by the wave of relief
But i write to see how black and blue compliment the bloody red.
.
I write, not because i want to be a writer
But i write, because the pages are the better secret keepers than the humans.
.
I write, not only for the emotions to flow on it
but i write, beliving, to laugh and cry seeing the withered and yellowish scrunched pages, when things will be right.
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