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Mom, When Would It Be
Compulsive hesitations
 Of every questions
 Trust from you are 
 worth as feather
 Mom, how come you can’t me go
 I have grown 
 To be sixteen, standing here thinking 
 Of how frustrating it is to walk a block away 
 From you
 U’ll be afraid I’ll be hurt 
 When I look left to the right
 On the streets
 You taught me the simple things
 I dearly appreciate with all of my heart
 I was a gentle girl 
 But I have grown 
 Of every day I’m growing
 Either from my 5’3 height
 Or my petite body 
 And the pain and love of the world
 To become a woman like you
 My mom
 I love  you
 But I do hope 
 U’ll let me go
 Cuz I’m not your little girl anymore

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