My story

A flight, she lay's her head
A flee market, card games
A phone call, hug's goodbye.

she walked to the bed,
a note, her eye's in flames.
haled close, she asks why?

Now, she feel like she's dead,
for this, he is to blame.
She runs, wanting to cry.

She reads her daily bread,
Today, it is her aim,
but she's just so dry.

Talking to her friend Fred,
telling her she's not the same,
as he, so let it fly.





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