womens issues

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Dear child,   Unravel me. I am lost, a spider embedded in her own web. Push, fidget, scratch, claw Fingernails on their death bed. Gnawed by fear, gargled by pain, Spit out by forgiveness.
What did I do? I left the house early and looked down when I passed a mirror. What did I do? I saw a man and walked around to clear his path.
To the little girls on bedroom floor, praying for swollen breasts and long hair. To the teenage woman, trading incoccence like baseball cards for what they believe is acceptance, 
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