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Kind Stare

I’ve written poems,

Too many maybe,

Or too less,

I cannot decide,

For people who don’t know me,

Or lesser they care.

I wonder if they ever know that,

The poems I wrote were there,

Etched in the layers of my heart,

Today and tomorrow to be fair,

Of the times it has been in love,

And the times it has been unloved,

All for a kind stare.

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