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The Goth
Sofia, Age 11, Basque Country, Spain

Her skin was white,
 As white as snow,
it gave a glow.
under the moonlight
 shining beautifully bright.
Her hair was black and dark
 it trembled in the night
as a lonely dog barked.
Her eyes were blue and sad
 looking at them made you feel bad.
She wore a black skirt
 that didn't show the dirt
 and the mud that had splattered all over her boots.
 As she ran away from home.
Alone.
She had a heavy cross
 hanging around her neck.
And a black shirt matching skirt and shoes
 with the shoelaces loose.
She was a goth.
A sad goth.
A goth after all.
She swore as she walked towards the mall.
 Feeling not alone after all.
A cat that sat
 on a bench miaowed and purred.
The goth sat beside the cat.
 And sat.
 And sat.
Until the cat saw a rat.
 And went to have something to eat.
The goth stared at her feet
 thinking about death
 and about being a goth.
And about her life.
 She would never be a housewife.
She would live alone.
 With nothing to own.
Just a bed
 she said.
Being a goth is hard
 she thought.
But I love it.
I shall never marry.
I'll have a boyfriend
 Until our love ends
Then I'll just have friends.
But I like to be alone.
I'm a goth.

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