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11/03/23
Through battered, weary eyes
And a quarter inch of glass
Have I seen you.
Blinded by self-told lies
And a jagged past
Have I seen you.
Have I seen you?
How much is lost to this refraction?
If but a fraction of your essence
Is dulled by optic obsolescence,
I fear I'll never see what's pure and true.
Just know that even if it's frayed,
Or distorted in some other way,
I'll always clearly see the perfect you.
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