feelings
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The book is wet from my tears,
And all of the heavy fears,
So lonely upon my couch,
I sit and hide like a mouse.
What is lonely? I ask aloud,
A ghost standing in a crowd,
Why are people everywhere,
With only blank space to spare?
They walk right past where I stand,
A shadow in a crowded land,
No one stops, no one sees me,
Invisible is my name, you see.
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