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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Experience · #657275
This is a PSHE thing but i wrote it long before
Upstairs in my little room,
Your smell haunts my mind.
The house is a place of tar and smoke,
Withont a breath of fresh air to find.

Little Jamie adores you,
She would copy everything you do.
I bet you will never tell her,
About the cancer results that camr through.

I heard you on the phone,
The words you spoke to school.
Apparently Jamie took to it,
Because she thought YOU were cool.

I wil hate you forever,
Because of you Jamie is dead.
Because of you i am affected,
Because of you i only see red.

Why could you not see?
The pain you put us all through.
Now you are the broke one,
And the facts about the smoking came true.
© Copyright 2003 Dr Matticakes Myra (dragoon362 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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