GrownA Story by Proletariat UprisingNo longer a kid.He sat in the barbershop chair. His new, respectable clothes were covered in a black cloth. Clip, clip, clip; as each lock of his long hair fell to the floor, his youth slowly died away. © 2011 Proletariat UprisingAuthor's Note
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Added on June 16, 2011 Last Updated on June 16, 2011 AuthorProletariat UprisingBrooksville, FLAboutI write occasionally. It's about the only creative thing about me. Life has been slowing down my writing, rather than giving me a chance to sharpen my skills (I admit my work is rough around the edg.. more..Writing
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