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 May 2015 A
Joshua Haines
My mother held me,
and asked what was wrong with my world.
Her rubbery hands in my hair.
"I feel like a plastic narrative," I said,
"and there's nothing I can do about it."
 May 2015 A
R
4w
 May 2015 A
R
4w
Stop ******* reminding me
******* hell
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