Two different eras. One family. Two sets of parents. Rhythmic. Succinctly, every two years. A gap, then another and then, happen-chance, one more. Seven in total, somewhat the same. From the upside down. And yet, so different. It’s all in the name. What’s in a name? That which they call a Rose, by any other name would smell as sweet. To be, or not to be. What was the question?
She was so loved, like a new puppy. But puppies grow up and crap on your lawn. Everyone loves a baby, until it is grown.
Cries for attention. Drama. Forgotten. You’re just a brat! Go away, kid. You’re adopted. You’re an alien. A mistake. Mom cried when she learned she was pregnant… again.
Everyone is grown up, except for the baby. Scary movies. Boyfriends. Bras. Make-up. And you… the kid sister that shows up at sleepovers and first dates too.
Childhood stars. Lost innocence. Cigarettes in the alley. Kissing behind the school. Drinking way too young, because it was cool. Mom going through her change when you are too.
Loved it!!!❤️
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Thanks. Writing prose poems is new. I thought I’d do more. Working on it!
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