first thing is: you smoke too much.
i hate it,
i hate the way it smells and i hate the way it looks on you.
you are my sister but not my friend, and god we can argue.
we are are father's daughters. but not our mothers', are we?
you are mean, you can be racist, and not even know. you are so unlike me.
even though we argue with passion, and we are both staunch liberals;
our father's influence, of course.
you are a withered old bitch, sister.
my brother likes you, you make him see sense.
i do not like you, sister, you are too angry with the world.
your pores sweat bitterness, your blood has changed.
and when they come you give them names and grind them into the mud.

i am not you
i am not you
i am not you

10/26/2001

Posted on 10/26/2001
Copyright © 2025 Indigo Tempesta