My sister my sister my sister,
turns out she wasn't a doll at all,
once push came to shove.
She'd been beat up and blistered like the rest of us,
just clinging to the mast of certainty found in encasing oneself in plastic,
layers and layers of it.
I don't know how she didn't suffocate but she's still breathing in there, somewhere.
She cracks at the edges,
I try to look in, nosy as I am, and get her out of there
but she doesn't want to get out.
She hates me for trying.
But I miss her I miss her I miss her.