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Untitled by Kimber London

In by New Author on July 15, 2011 at 12:00 pm

The nano micro organisms chillin in my dirty kitchen beg me to unlearn the lessons from my less than pure perception of a sweet, demure projection r’membrances of daily lessons, that i learnt so earnestly by courtesy of thanks, and please, and “mother, may I” fantasies.

As I stop to think about it, mama never had to shout it, clout the rod over my head, all she had to do instead was lead the life she knew I’d choose, if I could learn to wear her shoes.

Even to this very day, I clean and think and act her way.

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