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Beauty
I am an old desk.
Standing alone.
My legs grow tired and my body grows weak.
Tucked away in the basement, as dust builds.
My surface is no longer cleaned or polished.
Instead it is covered with dust and dirt.
Containing only a few markings.
Reminding me of the only memories that haven't faded.
If they would only give me a chance.
Take some time to wipe away the grim.
They would see that I could possibly be beautiful.
So, here I will wait in my lonely dusty corner.
Waiting to be loved.
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