That Little Girl

That Little Girl

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WpMetadataReadComplete Thu, Sep 6, 2012<5 mins
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Fiction
Social Themes
The little girl who this poem is about actually happens to be me, and you can call me Mallory. Or freak. Either one works. I got the inspiration for this while laying on my bed with my boyfriend Patrick, and we were looking at the bulletin board above my bed with a ton of pictures of me from when I was a little kid. The picture that actually sparked the idea was one of me when I was about three. I was sitting in a stroller, holding a bottle, and looking off to the side with a huge open mouth that was grinning. My curly brown hair was still an afro there because it wasn't heavy enough to grow down yet. I look so happy and innocent... That must have been a REALLY long time ago.
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I'm not sure how to start this; to be honest, I'm not even sure how to write this. If there's one place we can start, my brain, the most fragile yet sacred thing I've ever owned. Again, I'm unsure how or where to start with this, but let's start by being honest. I think a lot, and I'm sure you do too, so let's think together. (this is an original piece)

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