BSA Aftermath

I don't want to forget the way
you said, "Come over here."
The way you looked at me,
the way you smiled, you leered.
You kissed my neck and
wiped the spit.
I fell hard,
I took a hit.
My spirit whines,
my voice shakes hard,
"Can we still be friends?"
on a white school note card.
My friends all knew,
no one understood,
I cried a lot,
"What we had was good."
I cut my hair,
it's there no more:
"He liked her with long hair
so she cut it short."

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