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Untitled MAG
It was a child's game - biking through
yesterday's puddles in an '80s version
of a ten-speed.
It was a child's game - spraying one
another with imaginary disinfectant
after a boy touched you.
It was a child's game - slapping hands
and reciting annoying jingles you
learned from friends.
It was a child's game I played today
But it was not one I entirely regretted
For sometimes the past needs to repeat
itself,
And we must act like harmless fools we
once were.
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