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Sunday, June 12, 2011

All their loss.

Those prying eyes, they bore into you, they search for every fall,
They think of things, they make you cringe, with all those names they call.
Assumptions and presumptions, they've rotted all their sense,
All for you, and you to blame, nothing to defend.
They don't see past what they want to see, they've stuck onto their thoughts,
They search and search, and find in you, whatever they have sought.
And then there's you, you're holding on, never seeming cross,
And that is where it's entirely, and wholly all their loss.

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