Stare

How come my staring makes you so uncomfortable?
I stare, I do not laugh
Please, note that.
Watch my stretched out hand
It’s up to you to hold it
‘Cause not an ounce of your pain
Would make me any more satisfied
On the contrary,
There would be only sorrow inside.

http://underthetoadstool.wordpress.com/2012/08/07/eye-i-tb/

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