A Poem to the Make-Up Criminal I Call My Sister That Maybe I'll Show Her Someday

In case anyone's wondering, I have two sisters.

The Ice Queen and the Make-Up Criminal.

i'm the third daughter in my family,
and god.

i don't even know how to start this.

but i suppose i should introduce her.
as though she's merely a character of mine
who will die a sad death at the end and laugh over cereal

but she's not.

she wears too much makeup all the time
dark eyelashes, painted lips, concealed face

but maybe i'm the only one who notices

the Make-Up Criminal
likes horror movies
and doesn't have a lot of friends

but she said to me today, 
a 'joking' jab,
"As if you need more trouble making friends"



she is the one member of my family
who will not
1. lie to me
2. treat me like a china doll or a 72-year-old man
3. pretend to talk to me
4. act like my feelings matter to them when they don't

she thought i was mad at her.

i wasn't.
i was hurt.

do you know how much worse that is?
you probably do, actually.

it felt like someone had impaled
a knife in my chest
(right in the center, as though there was a target)
and i'd never noticed that it was there
until someone twisted

because she's the only family member i have
who might possibly look at me
and see a human being who could be something.

so when the Make-Up Criminal
doesn't believe in me anymore,
i am lost.

i am so dearly lost.

perhaps it's time to put on some make-up of my own.

The End

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