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Friends
My friends come in all shapes and sizes. From skinny and tall to short and small. The tall ones live in the clouds, towering over classmates. Tristan, skinny like slenderman, you might see his bones. Hair gelled spiky to the touch and. His skill is basketball no doubt about it, his length screams “get out of the way” as he plows towards the basket. Decker is different, made from determination. Short, but he still likes to ball. His skins tan and it never fades. Wears glasses but they never put him to shame. He lives through basketball, you would think that's all he knows; carries a ball wherever he goes. Jake is a giant type of tall. He's mean and pushes me around like I’m made of nothing, but nice on the inside, full of stuffing. He’s the smartest of us no questioning that, his hair is brown and curly, in the summer normally found covered with a hat. Matt is just about average. In the middle between David and Goliath. His hair is on fire but his skin is pale. Our friendship should not work, but somehow it does. Getting through life in our own independent ways.
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This is a poem about my friends.