Ignoring those slaughters,
as if there were none.
But one of your daughters
Were always son.
Simce pre-school,
hating all girl toys,
Even though he acted like a fool,
Always was one of the boys.
Confused child,
With mess in his head.
Worthless maybe kinda wild,
Fantasising about his death.
How lovely, I want to find peace.
Honestly I don't think I...
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