You sit and you fume
and you fuel your hatred
of what life has given you.
You have not (in my hearing)
stopped to consider what
you have given.
How unfair it all was,
you so stridently protest.
The responsibilities dumped on you
at too young
while too confused.
But me? I was
locked in that house
with that ghost.
While you partied
with friends.
I was the annoying little sister,
the unwanted daughter,
the Broken Toy no one wants.
We are adults now.
So many years have passed
but to you I have remained as I was.
Which must be why, once in a while, you swoop in
to shit on my life like the pigeons you are.
