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A Poem
Art Video (via TikTok)
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In the early hours of my pre-conscious thought,
My father left my mother.
In the early days of my pre-teen age,Â
My mother left her son and daughter.Â
In the early years of my pre-adulthood angst,
My sister left her brother.
In every scene, a sentiment that
I was merely fodder.Â
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