1963

“This is out of hate, not love.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she held

it in, just like she always had to.

Being the black sheep of the family

was never easy.

She took her cake and dumped it in the

trash can, embarrassed for somebody

else to read it.

She looked around at all of her brothers

and sisters and wondered why she wasn't

loved the way that they were.

What makes her hate me so much?

I didn't ask to be born.

She sat on the grass that her mother so

carefully tended to and her envy matched

it's hue.

She watched her sisters ride up and down the

street on a new bicycle and wanted the freedom

to roam, the freedom to escape from the place

where she was less than wanted.

A few days later her father called her outside.

She stepped off of the porch to see a new bike

with a pretty purple bow attached to the handlebar.

The basket wasn't big enough to hold all of her joy

that day.