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Miss Hannah

Bitten morning breath spilled from the door.
Defeated in her sanctuary, curled, wire hard.
“You’re a wicked and evil man.”
 
The keep, magpie hoard, cradling her wretched.
Bowed, stripped of quarrel, enrobed in argent.
“I was a young girl here.”
 
Stripping decadence reveals chattels of girlhood.
Eye-wide recall, affection and hurt alike.
“That belonged to my father”
 
Savage day, had carved through bone and home.
A veneer revealed. A void anew.
Cleansed of squalor, Stripped of refuge.
Night had found her destitute.
“This isn’t how it should be”

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