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The heart aches as if the skin has touched boiling water.
The cries of the child pierce the ear of a struggling mother.
The father has moved on with the daughter. Leaving his old love, and
New son in the frigid cold that bites the skin.

The mother is fearful about the world that will consume her child
Knowing the evil that is out there.
She is skeptical about the angels around that help, but grateful for the
demons that are not.

The child made of clay, will eventually crack against the obstacles, showing
The light that peers through the brokenness. Shining through the scars
that remain forever.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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