Shrinking in a 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 flowered deprived of sun;longing to belong to—somewhere or someone.

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About Lang Leav

Lang Leav was poet and writer. Lang Leav is an Australian novelist and poet. Read more on Wikipedia →

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