It's raining and I have no idea of what to write
It rains hard outside. It rains deep inside of me. I am looking for answers. Answers without even knowing what are the questions. I long for something that I have no idea what it is. The older I get, more questions I have, without properly knowing what questions are those.
I fly. I fly deep within my soul. I fly to distant lands of fairytales, of wars and conquers. I fly and I rise high in the sky, like an enormous dragon above a castle. I want to write, but the words won't come out. I feel the urge to write, but I have no idea of what to write. I start and wish for the very best, but that very best isn't enough, that very best isn't good enough. And those lands of fantasy seem farther than ever before.
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