my words
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I Am going to say this tho....
So that it is known what Words I Am spEEk'n for Myself. My voice is My Birthright to Myself, therefore I spEEk with reverence for Myself
No one can spEEk better for Me. Than ME. MY MOUTH!
My fingers graze the back of the page on which I spilled my soul. I run them over the indentations where my pen carved my feelings into the pure, white, sheet. How is it that such an act could be considered normal?