Sometimes I wonder if my real self hides in my handwriting.

I live in lines of ink; nowhere else seems real.

Perhaps I breathe only when words spill across the page.

The page knows me better than anyone else.

My true self bleeds from the tip of a pen.

Only in ink do I meet the person I truly am.

Perhaps my truest self lives only between pen and paper.

- Ritwik Raj Singh

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