Caricamento in corso...


I was little.
Too young to understand.
But too old not to be hurt.
She died.
Nothing i could.
I wasn’t there.
But I miss her.
Wishing I could go back.
Drinking chocolate milk.
Watching papa’s old westerns.
While she teaches me to crochet.
But i cant.
I know shes in a better place.
But its always gonna hurt.



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