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through a window

She looks out the window, but
she doesn’t just look,
she see’s,
these books,
with their very own story,
with chapters, with words that make up of
letters, in a sentence,
On every page. Some
filled to the bottom with despair, some
consisting of smiles to come.
Each was different,
yet so similar.
The idea of this all was so
simple, yet so much more complex,
Then she could ever read through.  




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