Siblings

My sister,
the one with
the slight of hand
and silver tongue,
is a fragile little bird
caught in a nest
of bad circumstances.
All of it beyond her
control. She'll tell you
all about it, if you share
your own personal
dirt, but none of it
is her fault, oh how
her bright yellow wings
do flutter in this horrible
cage she's trapped in.
Yes, she's weak and soft
sweet and sugary,
like a warm muffin
straight from the oven
on a sunday morn.
I steer clear of her
like the plague.
I've felt the thorns
that ring her flowery
self a thousand times
over. If she's wearing
a hat and lipstick
it gets even worse.