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paper boats Apr 2014
Your words,
They sting.
So sharp,
But not sharp enough to pierce through,
Only to stay lodged beneath my skin.
So that every time someone brushes by,
I hurt.

Funny thing,
You care,
Like a mother should.
And yet still,
I can see you,
When you're old,
Regretting,
*You're alone.

— The End —