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Innocence MAG
He wears a red and white striped shirt,
and neon green shorts with
socks pulled up to his knees.
His clothes clash, but who notices?
His hair can't decide where to go,
his nose is running and
half is supper still sits on his face.
Still no one says a word.
He takes a shower with Mommy,
and leaves the door open
when using the bathroom,
yet no one makes fun.
The wide grin remains
until someone tells him he is wrong.
Then, slowly, his face
blends into my own.
The child that was me is now gone.
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