They say the city never sleeps
I guess that makes me a building.
Sometimes I leave my lights on
Sometimes I lock the doors.
My stairs are old and stubborn
So I cover them up with carpet.
Hopefully no one will notice my ugly past.
I like when the wind blows against my sides
It lets me know I can still feel.
I like feelings but sometimes I'm not sure if I'm real.
I love it when you draw on my arms and legs
WIth that sidewalk chalk you keep in your backpack
It makes me feel less invisible.
Oh what a feeling.
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