So I was braiding my hair today, and I remembered back when my mom used to braid my hair
When everything was simple
And my parents never fought, or, at least, hid their fighting from me
When the only bad I knew was a scraped knee at recess
Everything through those little brown eyes was perfect.
Or so I thought.
I wish they still hid their fighting from me.
I wish I was still naive to the bad things of this world.
But I guess I can't be little forever, can I?
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