I look from afar,
A foggy window is what I see,
I sat at the wooden chair,
Beneath a shady tree.

I have touched the window before,
Curious of what I would feel.
I'm outside of the world,
My personal prison,
Where I could never be free.

I am inspired by that glass,
It makes me see the world in reality,
The bliss of life and the cruelty,
And, with the shade I am in,
I may never feel again what I have felt,
The moment I touched the window I always see.

 
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