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Growing Up

Sometimes,
I look at little things,
Everyday routine things,
Dolls.
Overalls.
Generators.
Brush and Paste.
Chocos.
Lays.
Books.
PostIts.
TV.
Poems.
Why do I have to look?
No.
I won't ask myself that.
Really I won't.
But, but
I shouldn't have to look.
I Should See.
That Was Once Me.
Pepped up by puppies
And dolls on my tee.
Well, that jolly well was ME!!
And now,
These little things,
Oh, now THOSE wonderful things,
Find themselves in a line of poetry!!
Shimmering as a long-lost dream,
With half that reverberating sheen!
I'm a teen!

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