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Roses are red Violets are blue We all make mistakes I’m glad mine was you
It’s been a year and half since I lost my father. Not literally anyway. But people don’t need to know that. People ask questions. And sometimes, most times, they are not ready for the answers. Even if they were, I am not. Not yet anyway. They don’t need to know that. There were no goodbyes.Continue reading “Deadbeat”
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