Scuffing leaves on the ground

With no other soul anywhere around

Hands in my pocket, keeping warm

My feelings swell to an indignant storm

Life at home isn't quite right

The yelling and shouting gives me a fright

"Best apart" says my instinct

But it's not like me to kick up a stink

Night times leave me cold, fearful and small

Ear to the glass, glass to the floor

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