Do you notice me when I walk your way?
I walked right by you the other day.
There you were, like you always are,
Splatted dark against the floor.
How long have you been there?
How long will you stay?
I wonder these things as I pass your way.
Surely you know you'll be here a while,
Surly you'll be here longer than I.
My days are final.
I know they have number,
but those numbers give me life.
What's your life like laying there?
Are your days final?
Do they have number?
Like a friend you greet me everyday,
but how many others see you this way?
I doubt they notice or even care,
that a black giraffe is laying right there.
Right where? Right where?
Here, right here.
You lay right there and you never move.
Why don't you move? Why are you here?
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