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Block of Wood
I listen to the discussion.
I am nothing more
Than a block of wood.
A simple feature
Lacking complication.
I have only knots,
Splits, and water stains.
I am alone, and useless.
I listen in again.
I am unique and alone.
I have traveled many miles
Adding to my mystique.
Imagine the stories
I could tell they say.
If only they knew
What I’ve been through.
It is uncertain what I am.
I do not command
That much attention.
I only rest in the corner,
Like an old man.
Too many years of
Work, wear, and tear.
Still, just a block of wood.
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