Little Girl

she died

not that she’s gone though

I resurrected in her place

My mother calls me sullen now

And talks only of days where I

‘Made everyone laugh with your jokes and dances’

And I want to shake her and yell that the daughter of jokes and dances is dead

And now all I do these days is

Mourn that fact and

Hold it close like a well-loved teddy bear,

One eye, ragged, string falling out

Hard to remember what

she looked like when I was fresh and new

and we had something in common

we both didn’t know

that our time would be over

before we saw the moon

and loved it for what it was

and realized things have meaning and Teddy and I don’t

Found out the world is not a backdrop

I am

And the sun recognizes one of us and it’s not me

Everybody wants me to be a little girl again

The men and the Gods,

So they can sacrifice me

And I can get dressed up

Real nice and pretty

Before I offer myself

to them

Young and lovely

Never more beautiful

At the alter I laugh and dance

They think my jokes are funny

They are taken with me

And then they take me

And I sat there

wondering if I looked pretty.

Image Courtesy: Brianna Patane

Image Courtesy: Brianna Patane

Strike Out,

Writer: Brianna Patane

Edited by: Nina Rueda and Sarah Harwell

Orlando

Brianna Patane is a content writer for Strike Magazine Orlando. You can find her re-reading a Sally Rooney novel, writing about her feelings, or lost in thought at a cafe while listening to something with an electric guitar solo in it. Other hobbies include making the perfect iced vanilla latte with oat milk at Foxtail, talking very loudly about feminism, making mediocre art, and being outside with friends. Preferably on a porch. You can contact her at bpatane12@gmail.com.