Seven years, 16 days and one hour separate the birth of my sister and I.
We may have different fathers but we come from similar stories.
My mom met a man and although they spent some time together
Once she found out she was pregnant it made him walk away.
My sister was raised a beautiful princess
She was Jasmine every Halloween.
Her birthday lasts all January and only stops one day for me.

I was six when my mom told me that my sister was the girly one.
That playing with make up and knowing how to do hair just wasn't me.
It was her.
I was eight when I realized that my sister...
Is the pretty one.
She knows how to charm a man.
Look beautiful in jeans and a t-shirt in the same way she looks beautiful in a dress.
While I'm still confused on how to look beautiful in a dress.

My sister writes the most beautiful poetry.
She bares her soul like Edgar Allen Poe.
It's always something she's done beautifully.
While I write songs in the background that I will never sing on a stage.
My mother tells my sister and I that music and poems are just hobbies.
That we should take our lives seriously.
Today my sister is a lost cause to her.
She's just the beautiful princess.
She will never be anything.
Sometimes I wish...
My mother expected the same from me.