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Transparent
I’m sorry for not being perfect
And that I have not pleased you
But what have you done to me
I’ll tell you
I grew tired, the kind that never ends
I work late into the night
Rise early the next morn
Only to repeat the unpleasing cycle
You become concerned
With matters other than me
Turning me to a ghost
When you set a gaze upon
My colorless appearance
You are only glancing past
And looking over
My transparent shoulder
And I have came to become
No more
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I am simply a small town poet and abstract artist who wants to give someone an idea.