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Jul 2019
The young girl
Her hair in a wild swirl.
The cement bench beneath her
The past three hours just a blur.
The freshly dug grave
She was told to be brave.
Her sister lay Six feet under
The girls mind began to wander.
"Who would miss me if I joined her?
Which would they prefer?"
That night her mind went wild
Of course she had to be the foster child.
She found some rope and put it to use
The young girl made a noose.
Eliza
Written by
Eliza  18/F/Space
(18/F/Space)   
404
   Jack Jenkins
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