poetry critical

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she was born sunday

she was in and out of
the roughest foster homes
in the state,
until the day she found
her way to my front porch,
skin kneed and sulking.  
she came special delivery
with a pink laced dress,
a well-rehearsed
how-do-ya-do? smile
and a file as thick as
the 2x4,
which according to the contents,
was the cause of that
check-mark scar on her cheek.
her name was sunday
and i was never really
quite sure about a lot
of things concerning her,
for instance the reason
for the peculiar name
or why she was considered
a fragile case.
she was pretty easy going
and pretty in general.
there wasn't a single reason
to believe her to be the girl
attached to the file.
it wasn't until on a whim
i took her to service
one easter sunday
that it all became clear.
she prayed, "jesus
i know you're mad at me
because my momma made me
on your holy day,
but i promise
if you'll just forgive me
i won't be born
on the sabbath no more."

24 Mar 07

(define the words in this poem)

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Very sad

Thanks for the read,
 — unknown

aww very touching and real.
 — lanezfairy

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