Beautiful Disaster

Advice From A Younger Brother

Trudging up the stairs, shamefully, slowly
Stopping to glance in the hallway mirror
Straining to see the reddish-pink blotches
On both sides of my neck, signs of my sin
My swollen eyes filling with a fresh batch
Of salty tears, covering my mouth to
Muffle my whimpering as my brother
Quietly sits down next to me, he smiles
Playfully, but his smile fades as he sees
My tear-stricken face. “I feel like a whore”
I whisper. Lightly, he touches my knee
“They will always make you feel this way, Sis.
We will never be good enough for them.
Stop trying to please them, and just be you.”

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