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A Poem

Art Video (via TikTok)

 


 

In the early hours of my pre-conscious thought,

My father left my mother.


In the early days of my pre-teen age, 

My mother left her son and daughter. 


In the early years of my pre-adulthood angst,

My sister left her brother.


In every scene, a sentiment that

I was merely fodder. 


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