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The Past Years MAG
When we were younger.
We played each day.
Tag, cards, Atari.
He always won.
Even though he did.
I always had fun.
He was growing up and so was I.
He taught me how
to ride a bike.
And even to fly.
Then it all changed.
The years flew by.
14, 15, 16 was near.
Finally he got his car.
No more time for his
little sister to tag along.
Out with his friends
each and every night.
He keeps telling me to stay out of sight.
So, here I am.
All alone.
No more playing.
No more fun.
No more seeing how fast we can run.
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