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Why so hard, he asks
his eyes
seeing through my heart
searing into my soul
he looks just like
Dad the
bad parts, with little left
lost and hurting
each drop of sad
echoes so
my ears get stuffed
and bad dreams wake me
tangled and tired
from swimming
against the tide
tied to a past
my health rebuts
refuting all but a
random scar
or two
remain
the kind make up never conceals
compassion may reveal
