° seven °

he pulled my wrist
and held it with a grip.

"now mister, where do ya think ya be headen off?

you ain't done with me;
and im getten ya lassie too."

i try to let go, to pry with my strength
screaming, crying
snotty, bloody mouth

i became a
bleeding little
blue boy

when he took away
my clairty

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