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Building Forts
We built a fort out of pillows and blankets
And hid under the constellations, and meteors, and milky ways
That were imprinted onto the flannel cloth
You poked me, and I did not like it
I told you to get out of my fort, my fort, not yours
You reluctantly agreed
Then you kicked the keystone
And it all came crumbling down, crashing, silent
Because you were not there to hold it
And so I held my anger, and you your sadness
Regret consumed me, and ate at my soul, my life
Never the same, changed for good
But maybe, just maybe it is for the better.
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