The first time,
The second time,
The third time,
The girl is full of blood,
Drowning in a tub of gulit.
Ashamed she stands there,
as she spreads the red paint
through her skin and body,
She feels like a broken strawberry
that has a heart like a clock,
ticking its way down to her spirt,
as she fills with pain of the things she
can not forget,
She is there when the brick hits again,
the first time
the second time
and the third time
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