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She was sitting in the back of a police car.

She was crying: I killed him I killed him.

It's a story you may know.

She worked as the receptionist for a real estate office.

A few doors down, there was a counseling center.

Outside, a young man in a pick-up truck was slumped against the seat.

A prince when it began, he became possessive.

Everything and anything sent him into a rage.

Day was night and black was white and red, he'd swear, was yellow

if you leave me, he would say, I will....

and I guess he got what he was after.

She was crying,

and sure that she had killed him.

It's a story that I know,

I worked at the counseling center,

and I hope she didn't let the bastard win.

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