Stark

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In the middle of the night, I will find you,
And maybe along the way, I’ll find myself.
It has never been my intention to blind you
Into mistaking this for anything else.
In the harshest sunlight, shining starkly,
Irradiating everything within its touch,
Would it be an imposition for you to think of me,
Or is such courtesy an inconvenience too much?

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