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Muddy Clothes
I went outside to
meet you at the bus stop,
when I went
around the corner,
I saw you sitting
in a mud puddle.
The boy that lives next door,
had pushed you down
and was hitting you.
"Keep your hands off him," I said.
"He's not doing anything to you."
"Why are you
picking on him anyway?"
"Why don't you try to
keep your hands to yourself?"
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Mar.15/2004
Muddy Clothes
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