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Mar 2015
From age one to ten.
You thrived in my life.
Then you moved out of town.
Cut away from me, with a knife.
To Oklahoma, then down South.
14 years of age. I don't mutter your name.
From my mouth.
We rarely speak.
But you tie yourself with my troubles.
Deal with your own life.
Deal with your wife, your 'double.'
I love you, I do.
You say the same, but is it true?
You don't even say MY name.
But when I forget yours.
I am the one to blame.
A few years ahead.
Now 16.
A lot going through my mind.
Then you call me, with your drama.
And your *******.
Wasting MY time?
I didn't know.
You even realized I was alive.
You say you still love me.
But that's just a white lie.
Quentin House
Written by
Quentin House  Willard, MO.
(Willard, MO.)   
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