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My own poem I wrote it last night.
Why do people not look my way. Would they even care If I woke up another day. Watching the people go bye and bye. Hoping to see an angel fly. Would the angel pick me up and show the way to love. There she was she was as beautiful as a dove. But when I rushed to talk it was an allusion. And here ends my dissapointing conclussion.

619matt