Report Card., by --Honestly;;
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Today's the day.
Whats's gunna happen?
Everytime is the same.
I'm hiding.
He's reading the paper,
It's just a piece of paper.
He slams it down.
Oh no.
What is this?
He questioned and questioned.
Silently I stood.
Scared.
His grasp tight,
Around my thin wrist.
Screaming at my blank face.
I'm dead again.
I plead,
I tried Dad.
But no.
It's too late.
Holding my wrist,
Limp in my other hand.
Another broken bone.
I'll try harder next time. |
Posted: 2009-11-06 03:20:45 UTC |
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