I am a window.

Sometimes, being a window is a beautiful part of life.
It’s a missed experience in a part of age, till I think like that.
We can see the two-view sides.
Actually, that is also a hard thing to say.
You see a side when the day’s running.
You know a side when the night is like a lying.
And where you are?
You’re wrong with your innocence.
You’re right with your fault.
And, where the people are?
You are like a zero in an integer line.

Can I open that window for showing you the world?

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