chains family relationships love hate
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Dear Dad, You used to call me florita, your little flower. I’m no longer a little delicate flower; I have now grown to be a fully blossomed strong, healthy, and independent flower.
My chains are often unseenAnd, when seen, misunderstoodAnd judged as if seenIn entirety.
I do not need youTo hold me backOr carefully watchMy every step.
