She would
love to go back; to the babe she had been,
To when
cruelty was something, she´d never yet seen,
Back to
her past childhood, she would happily bounce,
To when
“poverty” was a word, she couldn´t pronounce.
How she´d
love to go way back, to her surly dark teens,
To times,
when it was all about love & starry-eyed dreams,
Back to
the past, when hurting was merely, newly cut tooth,
Back to
that place that was safe & hidden from raw truth.
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