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IT IS 9




It is a story that no one can understand.

‎It is like you're reading it backwards or holding it upside down.

Or even if you read it properly,

No one can feel the words' intensity the same way the author put into it.


The sound of the keyboard is creating;

The stroke of every letter;

Every word creates

The feelings she relays.‎


The short pause after the phrases,

Ellipsis of hesitations,

‎Exclamations of madness and pain,

And dots of endings.


‎It is not a mere story.

‎It is a book of realization while she lives her life.

Sadly, no one cares for the chapters,

‎Everyone is waiting for the plot twists‎.


Just like no one really cares which one's real right,

They just know both are.

Some say it's six,

‎When it's really nine .


The difference between you two is—

She holds the book right as she's the one who writes,

While you hold it upside down and barely get the sentence.

‎Yet don't worry, your six looks nine in mine.

















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