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Think of a Number
At seventeen the bone rings of her neck were broken and her cord custard was sheared though not all the way through. Her body’s hanging by a thread so to speak, she can walk like a puppet. At seventeen she worked after school in a fashion shop had the gear and read the glossy mags though not all the way through. She hasn’t been outside since "I don’t want the people I knew to see me". At seventeen she watched TV. Things haven’t changed except, she did forgive the driver though not all the way through. It’s time to tick the compensation box but no one knows what she’s worth.