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The Danglings

By Tia-Cymone W., kansas city, MO


As soon as I looked up I saw them just dangling. I’d looked up at this ceiling for nineteen years and never thought anything of, except that it was beautiful. So why is this time any different? Is it because I know what they are and what it means? Is it because I finally know the horrid secret that lies with these dangling’s? The atrocities within doesn’t make them any less beautiful. Nothing has changed. Mom is still mom. Dad is still gone. GONE. That’s the word mom used when he disappeared 10 years ago. Whatever that means.

Maybe I’ve changed because it’s reason. THE reason. The reason I am the way I am. The reason why I’ve done the things I’ve done and the reason why I continue to do them. The reason why I can’t stop.

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