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Triggering Trash again. Let me rewrite it for you. POETRY NEEDS TO RHYME!

College on the Horizon

In the bathroom mirror, eyes puffed anew,

The mother feels a tug, a longing true.

Wishing to be the age of her teenage son,

Yearning for days when they were both as one.

But now his door is shut, locked from within.

Thrash metal blares, hiding possible sin.

She imagines him, dreaming of golden tresses,

While she dreads the coming empty-nest stresses.

With months till silence and echoing halls,

She pauses, then knocks, "Dinner's ready!" she calls.

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