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Poetry

Kevin (6)

Hermione Roff

 

She
relentlessly pursues the
evidence against me,
although I am, in
every sense, just a
low-level traitor. My
Dad, he is on the
higher level, and
he is still at
large. No
injunction stops him. He
broke her ribs. Now he
trashes the car,
bangs on the door at
midnight,

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