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October 27, 2011
Those sweeping, staring eyes
Corner and stab shadows, faint
On the dark backdrop; such an elusive chase.
And what, exactly, do they chase,
Those striving, scrambling eyes?
They grope for nothings made faint.
I feel them stumble and faint
What a futile, foolish chase
For those searching, starving eyes
But they are me and I am them; we chase faint anythings, me and my silly, silly eyes.
© Michelle K., Vancouver, WA
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