Being bruised and batter was always a daily routine, Hearing the footsteps of my parents has they walk by hearing the weep of the belt as my sister cry. Has I felt the pain every time the belt stroke feeling hurt and betrayed always happen much, Smelling the green grass wishing I could feel so feel, seeing the birds chirping wishing I could be me. Getting food so hard to come by with such parents I would rather die. Like a bagger asking for change it's been so hard to come by these days.
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