Magic was the calling of names, getting
The little crazy kid to bawl, striking
The first blow, so we could beat
Her down snot out of running nose
laughing fists to break - screaming - and
screaming - Only, after, our children
Coming home, crying, faces stained with
Tears shame fear do we, older, wish
Ourselves wiser and quietly, helplessly,
Hate the child we once were.
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