Dear Diary,

        I look at my hands

        and wonder

        if there's any soap

        strong enough

        to wash away        

        all I've done.

        All the 

        hurt

        I've caused.

        All 

        the 

        pain

        I've inflicted.

        I wonder

        if there's 

        any anesthesia

        that

        would ever be

        potent enough

        to 

        wipe my

        memories

        of all

        the

        hate

        I've

        spread.

        I wonder

        I wonder

        I wonder.

                Yours truly, with love,

                            Holly

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