I looked like a real girl
But I used to be my mother’s baby doll.
She dressed me in the clothes
Her mother sewn for me to wear.
She roughly plaited
My hair, too lose or too tight.
She insisted that I nor anyone else
Touch the clumsy pigtails
She kept me in my box, my home
To assure my goodness went unspoiled
I wanted to be a real girl
My
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