Wives’ Tales Part One

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Once, there was a little girl,
Muddy trainers, too pink dress,
Scraped knees, sparkly nails,
Frayed ribbons in knotted hair,

Each night, she lies in wait,
Tries to catch falling stars,
Each morning, she hopes a little,
But shed tears under fluorescent light,

Cut from words that sting deep,
Shun from potential playmates,
Cruel laughter ring in her ears,
To them, she’s the odd one out.

Maybe things will get better,
When she’s older.

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Elaine Mullarkey

About the Author: Elaine Mullarkey

She/Her Wordsmith and bibliophile that does a spot of writing every now and again.

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