In a world where stories are told,
words oozing from mouths

and shaky hands spraying empty sheets with ink.
where every story told yesterday,

tomorrow will remain different from how it was told today,
Thoughts are a bunch of numbers,
most if not all 1s and 0s.
but why should you agree to a thought that seem so off?
We value our privacy less and call it freedom.
Words said here,
forever shall remain.
When my hair turn dark,

my eyes will remain bright.
If not, but for seconds,
to let the world know

I died writing what I love.

Secrets of forgotten yesterday.

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