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With the end of the cable
you hit me.
younger me:,, Do it!"
One Hit, on my head, didn't hurt much.
Another on my back, my pullover protected.
I Held my hand over my face.
Bad choice.
The metal cut my hand like knife.
It still hurts, while I write.
,, I want to you explain!"
,, why you discuss with me"
Why do you Tell me how I should deal with things, why do you scream.
Were cliches you said.
But with scream I evoke your attention.
But then I saw you come running.
On the ground I laid still.
And accepted my fate.
I hate you I really do.
With little things you do bigger,
and leave a ****
on my heart
Copyright ©
Adna Demiri
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