Wallflower

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Shrinking in the corner,
pressed into the wall;
do they know I'm present,
am I here at all?

Is there a written rule book,
that tells you how to be-
all the right things to talk about-
that everyone has but me

Slowly I am withering-
a flower deprived of sun;
longing to belong to,
somewhere or someone.

Lang Leav - Wallflower

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