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Mom, When Would It Be
Compulsive hesitations
Of every questions
Trust from you are
worth as feather
Mom, how come you can’t me go
I have grown
To be sixteen, standing here thinking
Of how frustrating it is to walk a block away
From you
U’ll be afraid I’ll be hurt
When I look left to the right
On the streets
You taught me the simple things
I dearly appreciate with all of my heart
I was a gentle girl
But I have grown
Of every day I’m growing
Either from my 5’3 height
Or my petite body
And the pain and love of the world
To become a woman like you
My mom
I love you
But I do hope
U’ll let me go
Cuz I’m not your little girl anymore
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