February 8, 2010
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You spilled a drink on my shirt.

It left a stain.

I tried to remove it,

But with no gain.

Through the years,

I kept on wearing my favorite shirt.

The stain was still apparent,

Though most people thought it was dirt.

As much as I tried to cover it,

With jackets and sweaters,

The stain was still apparent,

And things were not going to get better.

Then you came back,

And did your best,

To get this stain off my shirt,

So that I could be laid to rest.

Until this day, the stain still shows,

It has shrunk,

But somehow still grows.

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