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Aug 2018
"Storybooks"
You sit on the swings,
she pushes you while she sings.
Like a rocket blasting off,
you snort and cough.
Blood shot eyes.
Questions and lies.
Fears and doubts.
Hollars and shouts.
A broken home.
A painful moan.
No one looks,
To them,
It's all just story books.
CataclysticEvent
Written by
CataclysticEvent  28/F/Between Here and There
(28/F/Between Here and There)   
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