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The poor girl
Sat on England’s
dirty cobble road and sobbed.Her father’s dead stone cold body had just been flung unceremoniously into the depths of “The Pauper’s Grave”. He was the only warmth that she had ever experienced. His smile and soft pleading eyes had kept her from selling herself to the whorehouse.His love had kept the emptiness in her stomach from frosting over. His incessantly warm thin hands had rubbed hers when mittens wore thin and scarves were scarce as sunflowers. He sacrificed his health for her bare survival, giving her every cloth he found and every nickel he earned. She had no one, now that he was gone, she would have to fend for herself. She would have to love herself this hour and the next.

The affluent girl
hugged her corduroy bear tighter
and wept louder. The noise pierced the windows of her house , and down the long winding staircase of her father’s mansion. Her mother in all her expensive aparrel ingnored the cries of her dead man’s daughter. She had the house and the wealth to herself now. The girl would be off to boarding school in The Alps and summer camp in the Indies. Her school vacations would be spent in Europe. The woman chuckled happily to herself.. alas she had the money she wanted. The girl screamed and kicked hoping it would raise her father from the ground. But soon after, all she saw and felt was her teddy being ripped from her arms and her home disappearing in the distance as she was driven away.

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