Saturday 23 August 2014

Words, Beautiful Words


The words flow from my fingers. They fill the page with their meaning. Everything around me is a blank. All that matters is my writing.

The story appears and grows as my fingers type on. They're not perfect, but beautiful. They are special. They need to be written.

My fingers slow, I remember the real world. I'm finished writing. I look at what I have written, is it good enough? What will people think? I smile, I don't care! It's mine, all mine:)



  1. Beautiful post! Exactly what I always think when I write something down. :)

    1. Thanks, this must be my favourite thing I have ever shared!


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