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The One Single Thing

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In a soft feather pillow lies one single needle.
Nestled in down
Uncalled for.

It stays still, absolutely still, most every day.
Poison-tip stagnant
Yet scheming.

Then one day the innocent lays head down to rest
Smiling at Mother
Closing eyes,

In the morning she awakes cheek pricked
A tiny red dot
Revenge taken,

For the one single needle that nobody noticed
Like the many small things that nobody notices
Was the one single thing
That eventually hurt.

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