Poem 4: Little Women

My mother told me should die
Probably before the baby
Shoved its crude head
Through a hole large enough
To swallow my world.

Another girl would make us
Like Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy.
I cried and hated my sisters
For daring to live while she
Strained on the table.

My grandmother called us โ€œfellasโ€
and made me wash my face.

I always wanted to be Beth.


Note: I only deleted seven, rather than eight, lines. Behold the rebel! ๐Ÿ™‚

Here are all four of us sisters.
Here are all four of us sisters.

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