I tossed a sharp rock, and
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hit a good friend in the head – nerf blood. As kids,
we played - we played rough; and we lied;
we lied rough. My friend collapsed to the ground, bleeding.
I wasn't home, he did it! She said it; they cried
while I whined and hid beneath my playground half-truth.
Age concealed history - and history relegated truth
to the back of my mind. Who had I trampled while growing old?
The rock won't remember, but I’ll never forget.
-=[ Blank this intentional space! ]=-