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Dec 2011
I hate parts of me,
because they are from you.
Your presence,
makes me sick.
Hoping daily that you will,
leave and not come back,
I come home,
disappointed yet again.
Screeching nails on glass,
are beautiful,
compared to your voice.  
Your touch,
suffocates me,
like pillows over infants’ lips.
You make me,
*****.
Written by
Gabrielle Diaz  25/F
(25/F)   
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