I asked my sister for her words.
The only word she had, why?
I told her, she had more.
She shook her head, why?

I told her to write from her heart.
Her only word why?
It feels good to share.
She stared at me blankly "Why?"

I grabbed her hand and placed my pen.
Again she shook her head, "Why?"
She saw my frustration and took the pen.
She wrote her poem:

Why am I doing this?
She made me, that's why.
No better, no worse,
I've nothing to share, why?