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May 2018
I would wonder if there be
A hidden portrait there of thee
Which bears thy sin and guilt and shame
While outwardly, thou art the same.

If this not be, then let me write
A poem to bring this all to light.
Let these immortal words then be
That true and twisted sight of thee.
a ****** unfinished poem about the first, last and only boy to ever hurt me.
Written by
Maria Monaghan  20/F/Ireland
(20/F/Ireland)   
  1.3k
 
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