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In what moment do you know you’re a writer? That secret whisper that’s been talking to you for years – but the voice turns on you – you cannot be. You cannot be that. A writer you say? You’re a stupid shit. A writer you are not Something in you though says f youYes I am! And you must rise up to meet that voice if your heart’s time is now. Or – it’ll just live in muffled hiding Trying and trying to let its voice out While you strangle it.
