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Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Sonnet

Shall I compare thee to the bluest sea
Your style is like mine if I could show it
Your presence washes over me like a hot cup of tea
The force of it makes me ungracefully sit
I've never touched you hair
but I bet its soft
The most I could do when it comes to you is stare
And if you catch me, you should've noticed that I always coughed
I could never look you in the eye
For if I do that, I will surely die

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