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“For her own good” She was so young when her chicken was dry and her friends called too much and she didn’t dress right When you’d explain what to do she’d back talk or cry– too ignorant to know it was for her own good You gave it your all but in the end she gazed blankly out windows slammed rickety doors and never even tried to lose those last ten pounds. When you left you said it was for her own good– standing strong while she pleaded, puffy eyed, terrified of being herself. Understandable, you thought, packing your things. You never looked back or you’d know it just a false start. Tender chicken peaceful doors and good friends arrived as easily, gratefully, as your departure. She laughs at the very thought of you now– Older and finally agreeable. |
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