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But I'm not like him. I ain't no summer child who cries at the melting of snow. No. I'm real tough. I'm real mean. I deal with real business. When I see that comment tremble its way onto my profile, I don't flinch. I don't cry. Not even a little bit. I just smirk. Because I know the rat bastard who wrote that comment. He's in SA, Texas. He's the ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ worst.
I know he pissed himself in 7th grade. I know he picks out uneven colors when decorating his room. I know he regularly confuses west and east. I am so much more than him. I smirk. My hands dance across the keyboard as I write this poetry. I am so much more than him.
I win.