Musings on Life from a Dead Girl

Younger Sister

Her hair hangs in dark curls around her shoulders

Her eyes are dark, like the night sky

She has our fathers' smile

She is pretty

She is quick-witted and popular with friends

Studs line her ears, and her nails are perpetually painted

She's small

She's loud

Her presence known no matter where she is

Her voice is booming and her words sure

She is confident 

She is everything I am not

She is my sister.