It never made sense til now

and the sense I've made makes no sense at all.

If I should say the truth I hope it be opaque

cause I can't stand myself or the perils left unscathed.

But would she really pull the hairs right out of my head?

"Don't touch my sister" he said.

Our childhood came and left a bruise

like the made-up games we'd always lose.

And like the time we found her on the bathroom floor

the broken bottle spilled a thousand lies,

but the body sprawled hadn't said much more.

I all but heard her sheepish cry, so innocent sadistic.

The moment after, I almost miss it.

I felt a tear rip through my cheek

as her nails ripped through my skin. 

"Don't touch my sister" he said.

so she locked the door instead.

I can't help but think what I've already thought.

That day on the bathroom floor, I wish she would've died. 

That sheepish cry was heard for years' time.

May you hate without a reason

while I hate the reason itself.

 But did she get what she deserved?

Did I get what she deserved?

To gratify this may seem malicious

but it's all in compromise.

Who knew death could save a life?