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But Crying, I Wasn't
There was a curious little boy, Standing on a chair, Mother not here, Attending to some other arrends, While the little boy stands, Stirring the tea in front of him, Boiling on the stove, Taking a spoon and tasting it,
But that is not my story, I fall onto the floor, Tea falling with me, Boiling and crashing down, Onto my stomach, Burnt, I was, Hurting, Mother rushing in,
Burnt, I was, But crying, I wasn't No tears came, For they were not there.
