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Bad boy
July 30, 2012
Mother would often tell me.
Before dinners, visits or public trips.
To be "good"
Tell me mother.
Who's good?
How can I be him?
And Mother I tried.
To be this other boy.
But I can't Mother.
I'm not him.
I'm not good.
I'm bad.
That's what you called me.
© Caycie G., Rochester, MA
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