it hurts
a little
whenever
they compare
me to my
sister

i know she's
artistic
and can float
her brush on
her canvas,
she fills it
with colors
and shapes
that i wish
maybe i could
do something
like that as well
she's got a way
with her words
that make me
feel poisoned
if only i was
as good as her
with her brush
and her practice
if only i
mastered that too
but i grew up
too soon

yet here i am
painting as well
but my canvas
is black and white
my canvas
is the same shapes
repeating on and on
my canvas is forbidden
and unheard of to
my parents
my canvas isn't dead
but its alive,
breathing and swelling
she walks out
of fire even if it hurts
she might burn down
as she goes but
she's the best power
that i know
and just because
no one knows about
my art
it doesn't make
it any less special
because my
art is for
myself