Oh dear sister,
how you irk me so.
Your possessions
crowd me from head to toe.

Bed Head products fill
the bathroom sink.
Soap bottles galore
that utterly stink.

There are four cars
two of them are yours.
Every damn morning
moving them is a chore.

All foods marked “Rachel’s”
is not discreet.
Not a single soul
is allowed to eat.

Laden with furniture
the basement went AWOL.
Your Ikea bookcase
is no where close to small.

When you left our house
all your junk poofed.
You sapped up space
There’s no need for proof.

No matter what
you really should know
that I still love you
but your stuff needed to go.