for us tis the season to be sorry. sorry for being born and sorry for living. memories of rages, terrible death, lots of loss at this time. little blond girl so afraid she is silent even when she walks so not to be noticed. no sound when she cries and she goes to bed in the dark but its her friend, she hides in the dark. only the cat knows, he cares and stays in the dark too. itchy clothes, ugly words, we run away and hide for christmas.
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