Grace

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Her arms cross, blonde hair fixed in place.
Her face as a sea boiling over, all red and blue and angry.

Her ways have changed
from her tiny-toe days,
Her eyes are more hard
and squint in the light.
She huffs a breath long held in,
And screams to break the silence they hear and we both see.

I watch the make-up fall away.
My sister has become me.





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