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the dead child
on the inside of the downs child layed a clown who could only frown.
His bicycle was bent, and his pocket money spent, but when he went to town everyone gathered around.
Time in the centre square meant he was on show one more day, though he never cared, the towns folk still stared, untill he went away.
Back home in bed, his mother pats his head, and he lays to wake for another torment
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