childhood with my sister

Sometimes we threw punches,

Both verbal and with our fist,

Though the bruises left over,

Whether on our ego or on our face,

Just left fresh memorabilia

To look back on and relate.

Compared to others,

Our lives sounded violent,

Full of adventure

With taking on challenges that

People considered too frightening to approach.

For us, these accomplishments

Were merely new obstacles,

All part of the game.

Modern days seem harder

Where the violence seems to have run out.

I miss the times I spent with you,

The times we fought,

The times we cried,

Games of Barbie where

Broken bits were merely new props

And we never gave up on our selves

But rather forged a new path

Where the dialogue we created was our own.

Sometimes it just builds up here

And anchors me down to a place that I fear,

But I know that all the violence and fun

Of our childhood wasn’t for not.

We learn,

We grow,

Even in times that we think just happened

Without cause.

Don’t forget our time together

No matter how different the perceival;

Rather remember that what we did

Was our own without a label

Original.