A coffee and a sweet, albeit taboo cigarette to soothe the rain of pain that befell her time again
One girl, two vices, and three such choices for her to seriously make
To remain with her man, or to run a country-mile distance?
To keep this baby, or to… agonisingly slay it?
Perhaps no truer words than there, at least on the ferociously interrupting part of her all too conventional neighbours
Nit-pickers extraordinaire; remember, there seemingly a reason for every grand decision
To feel all of the above, or to let it fall serendipitously by the wayside?
Either way, there really was no place to hide, specially when it came down to her very last choice, namely aforementioned baby
I told her, take your time…
For she need not parade this about the place right this instance

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