Child(hood) killer

I murdered someone the other day.
It was a little girl, hair scraped 
into tight pigtails hair sticking
to her candied lips.
I looked her right in the eye when I did it:
those wide green things staring
up at me, expectant.
I pinched her nose closed,
palm cupped over mouth, and 
she dropped her Barbie.
Her little hand opened as if tired
of holding on.
When it happened, I looked down, 
ready to kick it,
but paused when I saw it 
looked like one I used to have.
She looked like me.