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The Sister

By @MeaningfulMee

The Sister

She was eight when she first put those headphones, the first time she used music to block out the sound. The sound of her big sister screaming at the top of her lungs because she needed help, and soon she was getting it but that help took up all of mommy and daddy’s attention, so the eight-year-old girl in the back seat grow hungry for affection.

She was nine when she was finding it too tough, the secret on her shoulder’s, she had grown up, gotten much older, too much older. Now she needed help too, couldn’t read couldn’t write, yet they were struggling to keep her sister alive. So that nine-year-old girl learned to survive, dark cloud hanging over her she was losing her light. 

She was ten when she was the targetted attack, her sister was there when her mom and dad left the house, she wished she was alone. As she had a temper and didn’t take **** but her sister was too aggressive and broke her to bits. Told her she was worthless then after the fire was burnt out her sister would blow away the smoke and call her crazy when she showed her the burns. So that ten-year-old girl stopped trusting herself and longer to be anyone else. 

She was eleven and things seemed to be picking up, her sister was getting better and the cloud was flowing away but it wanted to stay and so school and phones answered it’s prayer. Bullies in the classroom who were going to private school so the bullies were let free. So that eleven-year-old girl know classism, sexism like the back of her hand and that understanding would only expand.

She was twelve when she should have stood up, should have told someone what was up but as the years went by she understood that her mum and dad trusted her sister more than they’d ever trust her. She learned to keep her problems to her self because they were never listening, they never would. She had no one to talk to she was all alone, started talking to the page even though it hated her. Found an expression for her built up aggression. So that twelve-year-old girl stopped talking to her parents cause they were never listening, but the page was always there, always glistening. 

She was thirteen when she found her voice, realised that silence was a choice. Made it clear, she’s still here, they were listening now. But they didn’t listen unless she shouted and they hated when she, shouted. She grow spiteful, arguments grow relentless. She wanted them to know that this was her life too and that she had a point of view. So that thirteen-year-old girl relit the fire and used to smoke to provoke, make them listen now.

She was fourteen and she was lost, parents didn’t care about her much, her sister was still their one and only, and this **** was beginning to wear. She was lost, so lost but then her cousin had a sister too and she needed her mommy and daddy attention so her cousin grow hungry for affection but this time she was there. She knew the pain and so she minded her cousin made him smile. And when he told her that night “you’re a great cousin” she finally felt she was doing something right. So at fourteen years old, she got a little lost but then it all came together and her paths crossed, she learned that others now needed her,

 so she wrote this.  

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