Sister

A part of a small series I'm working on in which I write about various people in my life.

Looking at my sister is like 

looking in a fun house mirror,

I see myself in the reflection,

Just a little less clear. 

We have the same glasses,

Mine are just a bit more dramatic.

The same eye shape, 

With different blues and variations of green hues. 

The same untameable locks,

With different curl patterns. 

I was born five years after her,

And I find myself often thanking the stars

That I wasn't first,

Because I don't know if 

I  could make it through the world without her. 

See, our mother is a flake,

Our father a hustler.

For them, 

Something always came up,

And rose above the needs 

Of their daughters. 

Whether it be the boyfriends, or the drugs,

It was always just us. 

Even when placed in different circumstances,

And given new chances,

We protected each other. 

Fear of our surrogate family 

Deciding we are more burden 

Than gift,

We stayed on guard. 

Even more than eight years later, 

We still view this family from the outside. 

At Christmas dinners feeling as though

We might as well sit outside. 

And it's not their fault,

This family has claimed us as their own,

But they have no clue the battles we faced. 

Sleepless nights in shelters 

That felt more like group homes

For kids without contact

With their mothers and fathers. 

Extended bath times 

While mommy was in the next room

Lighting up the meth pipe with 

Only god knows who.

Pretending not to be hungry

Until my sister can steal some food. 

Up until eight years old 

This was all I knew.

I became afraid of every man 

Who raised their voice, 

And I felt bad,

Because when it come to raising me,

My sister had no choice. 

Traded her childhood for my own,

And without a stable house,

She was my home. 

Sheltered me from types of abuse,

Types as in plural,

As in what we had seen and 

What people had done,

As in when it comes to marks on our skin,

There have been more than one. 

And despite all this, 

She grew,

Graduated college with a degree 

To help kids in the same situation too. 

She taught me not to apologize

For the circumstances of my life.

Taught me to aspire to be more

Than just a statistic. 

That a bad start 

Doesn't have to make me sadistic. 

And despite the makeshift family 

That I have,

She is more than blood,

This girl is my other half.