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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Dark · #1749117
Maybe one day, I can become a snow angel, and save more kids like me.
When I was little, I made a snow angel every day,
every year,
in the same exact spot.
Right under the old willow tree that I climbed
during the summer.
When my mother asked me why I did so,
well, that was the first lie I ever told.
I told her that my imaginary friend only came during the winter,
under the willow tree.
We made the snow angels together.
She laughed with relief and ruffled my sopping hair,
going to go make some hot chocolate.
She didn't know that I knw;
her and daddy fought every night
for as longas I could remember.
Recently, they'd been fighting over who would keep me.
I didn't want to live with either of them.
When mommy went away, daddy hit me.
When daddy went away, mommy woudl have weird boys over,
older than me but younger than mommy.
They did worse things than daddy did.
Mommy and daddy didn't know about each other.
During the winter, things were worse.
We didn't have much money,
because daddy only worked during the summer.
Daddy got angrier quicker
and mommy brought more people over.
When they were both home,
and I was safe for a bit,
I went outside and made my snow angels.
The snow took the pain away,
made me feel numb.
I looked up through the branches of the willow tree,
snow falling on me face.
I wanted to be a snow angel -
to help other people like me.
And maybe,
if I do a really job at being a snow angel,
just maybe,
my own snow angel will save
me.
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