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… wrong, wondering when her husband stole the simple innocence of her country-girl childhood. Mom recoils from me, turns away and cries like she always did when her husband raised his voice or fist. I hold vigil beside her, watching dusk turn her into a dark silhouette. She teaches me how to weep.
Theodore McDowell
James Edward Young
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Very powerful and raw. You do beautiful dark poetry,
I believe in honest true life stories with the thrill of life, romance and strong emotion.
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