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A Statue
I used to watch you scrunch your nose
at the color blue or ugly clothes
You would make that face when you ate bad steak
When you felt out of place at your grandfather's wake
It was a look of distaste with a hot, burning hate
But now you don't make that face
You don't make any face
There is no hate
There is no distaste
You wear blue, eat bad steaks
You feel out of place at wakes
You no longer scrunch your nose
No feelings, no highs no lows
you're just a slab of stone; emotions unknown
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