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No piss, nor flowers

reaching out
with my tiny hand
feeling the hard cold
of your knuckle:

part of the fist
  you used
to beat my mother

I missed you
    then hated you

eventually, I hardly
thought of you at all

a gypsy told me
you were sorry
     but I didn’t care

I thrived without you
and
     continue to do so

highlyfunctional
Written by highlyfunctional
Published
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