Challenge
Tell me a poem about abuse
Ashy
Cold ugly, ashy, black hands, stole my soul right through my pants
Hurt on, hurt, on hurt, on hurt
Innocence launched to go.
Scared of corollary, to tell home.
So I sing, a silent song.
Never to tell of the,
cold, ugly, ashy, black hands, that stole my Soul, right through my pants
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