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That pretty, sullen boy always sits on the concrete wall;

His gray coat and jeans blend him into the background.

There's no one around to claim him as their own,

Just cold and dreary space, like winter clouds.

I stop, and dare to look into his forest colored eyes.

 

I ask him boldly "Why are you alone, sullen boy?

Do you like the silence of your own world?

Can you not abide us lower beings?"

He doesn't smile, doesn't retort sharply.

But his eyes hold a light that burn me through,

And I run from him, and the heat in my heart.

 

The next day, a body is found in the river;

The news flashes the boy's stoic face.

I still feel the heat from those eyes,

And a truth hits me that lingers still today:

No one broke past his dingy veil

Until I looked him in the eyes and saw his soul.

None but I know what the sullen boy truly was:

A dazzling gray-green pearl in a sea of stones.

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