Ink

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The color of Ink is seraphina blue.
It slithers and twists, whispering the right words in my ear.
Ink tastes of quicksilver and trapped lightning.
Smelling of old parchment bound with new words,
Ink is an ocean of golden-cascaded letters, copper-coated words, bronze-wrought sentences.
Ink can create and destroy. It feels of raw power.





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