When I opened my eyes,
All I could see,
Was a little girl,
And she looked back at me.
I saw the pain in her big blue eyes.
I could hear the screams of her Past and cries.
And I knew who she was.
I'd met her before.
I'd been through what she had.
But she'd knew more.
She'd been more recent,
And I've seen her in my head.
I remember her torture.
I remember what she'd said.
She knows more than I do,
And she can still see.
I know that little girl.
That used to be me.
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My poems.
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