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“she did it.”
we stood in the kitchen next to one another with our faces blushed with a red tint.
mom yelled as she saw the broken glass on the floor and the water spilled across the tile.
i turned to my sister and said, “she did it!”
it was me who broke the glass,
but she believed me regardless of my lie.
at least i wasn’t in trouble.
but now i stand still,
letting the frigid winter breeze hit me,
thinking of my sister,
the little girl i could not save.
"she did it," i say,
my hands on her grave.
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just a short poem, enjoy.