Growing up

At the age of nine 

I had to take care of my sister and I 

My stomach ached as I waved goodbye

I promised my mom I'd stay calm

Yet my palms had sweat and 

Thoughts of what could go wrong came into my head.

But then I realized I'm growing and 

I needed to start showing that I can be relied on.

We played, laughed, and sang all day.

I fed her before she went to bed. 

I am not her mother 

But my role is just as strong.

I nurtured and kept her safe

Though maybe not for long. 

I was no longer a baby as that was ages ago. 

No one would hold my hand 

Every minute of everyday 

Because I needed to find my own way.