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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #2204077
Shaken-Baby Syndrome
I’m a girl named Tuesday and I’m wild about Wednesday where willingness
to work tomorrow seems easy.
I write for the love of children.
Daddy you have been a mother to me.
I am so down and out my second hand flowers when neighbors prize roses
are well spent on you even though their wilted.
That’s me, ugly dream beautifully sleeping, tossed and turns
with mind in wretched keeping.
I know you are a little tired after walking the floors with me.
You let me pout it out before I cry.
It’s always summer with the thermostat cranked up,
especially with winter on our doorstep.
As I grow older I receive no dreadful calls from mama shaking me
for being a naughty girl but then I’m a woman on my own now
and I still feel a little shook up at times.

The End.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2204077