Pictures staring down from walls.
Question is do they have souls?
Watching me as I unchange,
Watching me throughout the day.
They see my anger,
They see my woe,
They see my joy,
The see the real me.
What I fear, for me, is that,
They go back and report me
To the owner of their face, their soul
And somehow they know my vices.
A silly fear, I know that's true,
But don't you feel them too?
They haunt me and follow me,
Intently with their watchful eyes.
Until I unpin them to the ground.
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