March 22, 2014
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I can’t say I care for you because you show me little,
In comparing the heart of my mother and yours so brittle.
You think I’m a burden and treat me this way
Then go off to gamble your fears away.
You have a limp arm and you brandish it dearly,
Your injury preventing you from thinking clearly.
I don’t question your work ethic because you have none
And I wish your words did not sear like the sun.

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