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Feb 2019
I used to cry soft gentle rain that toddled pitter-patter on the window pane. No one answered. No one came.

I used to cry barrages of torrents in my white canopy bed. Someone screamed obscenities from the other room “Shut the F**K Up” Someone whacked me on the head.

I used to cry with my face burrowed in my pillow, as a prairie dog. No one answered. No one heard. My tears corroded every word.

I don’t cry anymore
sandra wyllie
Written by
sandra wyllie  56/F
(56/F)   
  305
     ---, ---, Kalliope and Mohan Sardarshahari
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