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Why?Why is it that I just stand by the wayside and watch you do the things that you do? Why is it that I allow this misery to blacken the sunny skies of my life? Why do I not run from the torture that you so happily put me through? And why is it that each night I open my arms wide and let you back into my life? Donavon Scott Vinson Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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