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untitled
August 31, 2010
Loved filled poems
ripped into shreds
as your violent moments
replay in my head
Bumps, bruises and cuts that made me cry. When i look at myself i wonder why.
Why would you beat me and call me dumb? I wonder as i lay in my bed feeling numb.
3yrs later the blood is cleaned
my skin is fresh
counting all the scars that sonofabitch left
© Brooke W., Weston, MA
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