A Story Untold Could Be The One

My Father Wouldn't Let Me Take Typing In Childhood.

The English Language On Her Tongue Became A Smoke-screen, Without Her Eyes Changing Expression In The Least.

The Mind Is An Intricate Mechanism That Can Be Run On The Fuels Of Both Victory And Defeatism.

Love's Action. It Isn't Talk And It Never Has Been.

Because She Deserved My Tears If Anyone On Earth Ever Did. I Could Feel The Tears Within Me, Undiscovered, And Untouched In Their Inland Sea. Those Tears Had Been With Me Always.