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The son alone in his attic
father's loaded rifle in his hand
soul torn by cruel pain
hand burned by cold iron
sits alone thinking
if life is really always like this
a space filled with fear
anguish and desperation
finally silents are the bullies
they look away in shame
the parents by the coffin
candles and photo on the table
why did you do this to him
he would have chosen to live
this child pierced by shame
our son covered in sand
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