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She sings to them, um
She’s nervous.
So nervous
That she did something wrong that will mess up my life.
Too late.
Mum doesn’t see where the mess really lies
So she throws around facts and numbers until they go blind
And maybe give in
Or tell her sorry, we can’t help.
Arguing already from a little office shrouded in snow in late December,
As the deadlines loom.
And I am alone, wondering.
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