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Mo Troper
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In the Waiting Room
You realize that you might lose your mother None of your fake problems prepared you for this You realize you can't do anything without her What's it called when you're an adult who still feels like a kid? In the waiting room you're biting on your fingers Trying to make a mental list of everything you regret And your inkwell's filled with spit and rancor So busy looking at yourself that you never learned how to swim You realize that you might lose your mother None of your fake problems prepared you for this
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