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Dec 2012
You're a strange breed.
You look out past my street
         (when I'm fast asleep)
With the moon reflecting in the puddles
in the corner of the street,
Or, the corners of your corneas.
                             (tear puddles)
Until your vision is mottled and
your sobs muffled. Continue
to stare out your window (forever)
Keep looking until you find something
better.
Chris Rodgers
Written by
Chris Rodgers  Indiana
(Indiana)   
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