It started long ago...
a little girl wrote away more than what she spoke...
Sometimes she hardly spoke, she hardly cried...
She found solace more on pen and paper than on any human support...
She wrote of people special to her in some way, she wrote of all that made her smile, made her weep,
she wrote of all that made her, unmade her..
she wrote of the world inside her head and outside of her...
I guess the little girl must be somewhere still writing away.
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