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Jul 2014
Hurt plays downstairs.
And it rings in my ears.

"I hurt myself today".

The baby cries downstairs.
And I cry up here.

I don't want you to know me.

My books sprawled in front of me.
My tests tomorrow.

I don't think I'll take them this year.

Scissors beside me.
Small. Blue. Sharp.

Let's turn the wood floor red.
Written 3rd June
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