A Tale of Two Sister

A Tale of Two Sisters
 One blonde, one brunette
 As awfully different as two girls could get.
 The brunette was calmer and softer and hotter, 
 The blonde one was smarter and quicker and stronger. 
 They grew up apart, one favored one lost,
 At the top of their classes, but not without cost. 
 
 The brunette was an extrovert, she had twenty friends, 
 But there were many expectations, the list never ends. 
 It became her sole job, to cheer everyone up,
 Spilling her energy into their empty cup. 
 She tried and she tried to climb to the top, 
 But she always felt that it wasn’t enough. 
 There was always another person to fix. 
 She could do more, help more, be more, take more, 
 Ignoring the way that she sobbed on the floor. 
 Only in private, of this she was certain, 
 The tears on her face made her somebody’s burden.
 She found joy in writing, in singing and dancing, 
 But as she grew older, her brain began chanting:
 Worst one on the team, they don’t need you, just leave. 
 So she busied her schedule, left no time to grieve, 
 Keeping herself in a world of makebelieve. 
 
 The blonde didn’t mix with the people she knew, 
 She seemed to prefer to stay in her room. 
 Studying constantly, pouring over books, 
 Ignoring the whispers and judgement and looks. 
 She held her head high, rules for herself higher, 
 Every first-place out there, she swore she’d acquire. 
 They called her a try-hard, stuck up and cold,
 Said she only cared about winning the gold. 
 Everything that she tried, she always succeeded, 
 But nobody saw the work that was needed. 
 Up till all hours, work ethic superpowers,
 She rarely let all of the work she had drown her. 
 They said she was perfect, but she had to earn it, 
 It wasn’t all natural, she still had to learn it. 
 
 With one doing arts and one so athletic, 
 When watching their relationship, people didn’t get it. 
 Even they struggled sometimes, related to the other, 
 One so like her dad and the other, her mother. 
 Some say as you grow older, you grow far apart, 
 But the opposite was true for these sisters at heart. 
 They didn’t grow closer in ways that they should’ve, 
 Instead missing out on the ways that they could’ve. 
 The older brunette watched over in fear, 
 As her sweet little sister became her freshman year. 
 She saw her eyebags grow dark like her own,
 The way she strived for much smaller clothes. 
 And she begged and she cried, tried to turn her away, 
 But she was a hypocrite, because she did the same. 
 
 A Tale of Two sisters, more same than they knew, 
 They were shoved into darkness, so in darkness, they grew. 

-Leanna Florez