arys, district four | cb

Your sister is made of flesh & bones,
And it's true, she's got your face;
But when boys kiss you and cut you with silver tongues,
You swear to them that you are forged from burning steel

She's a fragile thing:
A ghost of a memory,
And she haunts you some nights;
But you're everything she's not:

You are warmth where she is cool,
And storm where she is breeze;
When you lost her,
You made yourself into something beyond a pretty face

You're all fists and rolling hips:
Soft lips over sharp teeth,
And you've spent the last few years
Convincing yourself that the divorce was fine

Watching your mother and father eat themselves alive:
It was fine;
And being torn from your sister:
That was alright

You've shifted your insecurities into bruised knuckles,
And you trust that you're fine;
All girls break at a certain age,
And someone as smart as Daeja would know that

But you, fiery and bright as always,
Have mended yourself before shattering;
You've got bandages over smooth skin,
And every night you prepare yourself for the first tear

But it never falls,
And you trust that you are fine;
You do,
You really think that you do

'Cause you are things that cannot be destroyed;
Your sister is breakable,
And so is your heart,
And maybe that's why you've rid yourself of both