In Her Heart
She lived a normal life
A nice home
A clean floor
And a typewriter she never used
Then her dream became a story
That she thought had to be told
The typewriter came to life
She wrote word after word
Her palimpsest covered her floor
Still she kept on telling her story
Writing on ream after ream of paper
But even if her story was never finished
If no one ever had the chance to read it
In her heart she was still an author
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