Do you think of me as a child?
Unable to comprehend your twisted words...
This poem is for my friend whose mother died...
The pain is finally setting in...
Do you think of me as a child?
Unable to comprehend your twisted words...
She sees her world through eyes of others,
Black and white; there are no colors...
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The easiest thing is to forgive you for what you've done. The hardest thing is to forget what you did. |
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&& he's my best friend..... and my best love |
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Come on sweet catastrophe |