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Watching

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Are they watching?
      The insecurities my mind won’t let me forget.
Do they see what I see?
      The frizzy hair, wrinkled shirt, and shoes that are over worn.
Are they observing what I try to hide?
      The downwards stares, shaky hands, wandering thoughts.
Do they glance at me?
      In public, while I’m standing aside trying to gain courage to talk.
Are they staring?
      The frustrating feeling of worry that won’t go away.
Do they know why?
Do they understand?




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