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Today my father died.
Gone, he was here yesterday.
Left me, my family.
Not a note or goodbye.

I walked down the street
Counted each car on every one of the trains that passed.
One hundred sixty four
I didn't spend even that many days with you.

My father died today, but only in my eyes.
He left for the other woman last night,
And breathes with her this morning.




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He looks like a turtle who's been through the Vietnam war.
— SirenCymbaline the Kiwi