You could have asked anyone found on the street
when I still held your hand to cross it,
will one day her nails dig into her arm
her knees to her chest, rocking herself to sleep
on the cold floor next to her bed?
Yes, they would think; I don't know what they'd say
and I wouldn't have anything different
but a mother who asks
I don't feel better knowing I'm supposed to break my favorite things
But they can't care about everybody
They would hurt, too
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