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There's a sad little girl
trapped in my body,
curled up,
dead still.

She-s full of anguish,
full of fight,
hazy from light,
yet a banshee.

Eleventy-five mini pairs
of Irish mini shoes,
for her Barbie's
and dirty dirty stockings she wears,
with pink mittens and dark sunshades
just to own them.

There are few happy days,
with blue skinny skies
and maxi maxi kites
floating above the bays.

There's a sad little girl
insecure and fearless,
hardly shown, yet regardless
I know,
she knows,
it exists
yet we choose to dose
on highly premeditated absence
of a bravery,
now aged, once young
once tall, now gone.

Little girl, you know,
I know you know
we're strong and brave
and brave and strong.
Stop this right now,
face it,
get up, go home.
Surely you knew,
some day
I'd say this.

She stood and left
And said not a word

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