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Strays

Do I still behave the same —
As I did as a child
I sit and write
Thoughts that come to me
And weave webs before me

And I wonder — what if others came to know
The thoughts that only I know
Yet I am sure
Now no longer a child

That everyone else — young or old —
Has thoughts only they know
And even more
They never come to know

And I wonder
What do people do
With those thoughts
If they do not — like me —
See their weave, web, and flow

Do they — ever get to see
The magic —
Time, worlds and hells
Held inside these words

Do they ever see
That fear and shame
Grief mixed with vanity —
They carry so preciously
In their bodies —

Are but the veils
Of these words —
Strays that wandered into
Their house — minds —
Before which they never sat

And get to find
How hollow and weak
How empty of truth
Their forms
Happen to be

And I wonder —
Whether I even wonder
About the child or the adult —
About myself or another

And if not all of it
From one place to another
Has been anything but
The sounds of these words

Next poem Subjectivity
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