I stared at the window,
The window stared back,
As if I'm a widow,
Confined in this room.
My words ripple the feeble,
My thoughts challenged the thoughtless,
Few comprehend,
Many falter.
Papers of unspeakable jargons,
Literary works astray rearranged,
The hundredth game I've played,
I cause them all.
Again I pass the time,
Waiting for nothing,
Yet nonetheless hoping,
For someone like me.
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