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the girl never stops moving,
climbing the tarnished metal
of the jungle gym
wildly, limbs swinging,
with a childhood joy
I shed when I passed
the port of twelve,
she is knotted curls,
long silken hair
with infant-blond ends.
her fingers grab
her doll with the frizzy hair
and painted face,
and she's eager to win
I am old enough
that she will not last this way,
that she will grow,
as all children do.
every time I see her,
she grows a little taller.
she no longer likes Dora,
and I guess she thinks
is too babyish now.
she will abandon her dolls
leave her coloring books
for boyfriends and college and
but right now,
her world is simple:
days in school, coloring pictures,
nights at home,
nibbling dinners and
playing with her toys.
I Found God In the AtheistI found God in the Atheist, whilst I found Satan in the Christian.
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However, I must admit, that defacing the fraud was my intention.
The experiment began when I attended my church,
beside me on the pew, the woman of God perched.
We sang, we listened, and we prayed together,
our performance as flawless as a pure white feather.
However, when it was time to go, we passed a homeless boy,
who stood barefoot, and cold in the white snow.
This woman of God was rich you see,
and had much more money than a poor Christian like me,
yet I spared my coat, and my old lunch money,
and I looked towards the woman to supply change to fill the cold child's tummy.
Change she had not, and she left with a feral laugh,
“He'll just use it for drugs” claimed the pompous ass.
Long story short, the poor boy had died,
yet no drugs filled his body, rather maggots and flies.
She attended church next Sunday, that treacherous bitch,
and suddenly her praying sounded like a hex from a witch.
Our church was a