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I wonder how it feels
to know every letter,
word, sentence, and
thought is about you.

That somebody
felt so compelled
to write something
about you,
to know that you touched
them in some way
to express it in words,
and more importantly,
to the world.

Maybe you weren't theirs
or their world. Maybe they were
yours. Maybe you weren't either
of each others or both.

I know your reading this.
I know you know who
you are.
I know you know this is about you.

Please, before you make
your assumptions and comments,
please tell me how it feels
to know I wrote, write
about you.
-wrr

— The End —