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There was a young girl ...

There was a young girl call Kirsty

who drunk more than she could of whiskey

She fell for a boy

which bought her much joy

But with two loves in her life

her heart was pickled with strife

With no one to stop her

she ended up in the gutter

There were no shooting stars to be seen

just shades of blue black and green

Until one days she took a step

eleven more would swiftly be met

Her creativity nourished,

new friends flourished

Life found a new jump skip and hop

but her heart never recovered the shock


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