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Childhood
I sat alone, and untainted. Quiet, reserved, waiting for something not imaginary to pass by; they were always the greatest of friends. Smiles I sent were never exchanged. Some called my odd, father like a slam poet casted names in the direction of my ere wandering shadow. Memories fade, and pass like the trees going seventy-five thorough an overcrowded national park. School was lame, therapy a bust, there wasn’t much that I could honestly one-hundred-percent say was cherishing. Like the desperate whistle of a kettle after it’s been cooking far too long, water over-boiling, the love long overdue, people came and passed, and I did too. I said goodbye to many chapters of my life, never burning bridges, and as I see them now, I ere wished I had.
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