She sat in a white room,
surrounded by toys
and bookshelves.
She didn't play,
she didn't read,
she waited
and watched.
While her mother
talked to a lady with glasses
and pom-pom hair
that bounced
as she bobbed her head
in agreement.
She saw her mother's lips move
through the window,
the black bruise on her cheek
whispering hate
that slithered under the door
to dig its nails
into the bruise on her own thigh.
She longed for it to be over.
As she waited
and watched,
she saw something
she had never seen before...
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