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You look at me so strange
leaning forward from your seat to look around the girl beside me.
It's not my beauty that you seem to see.
I am so odd in such a place
and seem to be okay to be put on display and openly stared at.
I'm an illustrious museum artifact
drilled through with blazing eyes
The stares don't cease when I hide or turn my back on faces.
Rather, they burn through my shielding back.
The world is a haze
and I am the only clarity walking through it with a light.
So, keep on staring, I'm your guide.
Its strange, cause its seems so clear.
I feel as if I blend in height and hair and all things including soul
but really, I am alone.
The eyes don't cease still.
They are ever looking even when met with my own questioning gaze;
I'm a monkey in a cage.
Maybe if I make a face things 'll change?
Still the gaze remains, unbroken and fixed upon the one who's strange.
Is it not-ok? Look on, but don't say a thing.
With speech you'll end up in defeat.
Words are unpronounceable, but thoughts are uncontainable: so stare
"I think I'll get off the subway here."
Goodbye, and hello stare.
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