A house of eggshells

Where two sisters live

Walking on tiptoe

Night and Day

Their mother calls them

Two halves

Of her split personality

Made flesh

Fighting constantly

A practice which

They learned from her

Once they lived

In relative harmony

United by the fear

Of their mother

Who berated them

Making them feel small

Seeing too much

Of her own self

In her daughters

The sisters would play

Making up stories

Escaping the terror

And the screaming

Building a world

That was safe

To dream and live in

Making each other

Laugh and smile

Speaking a language

All their own

Now one sister

No longer speaks

As the other

Breaks in the silence

Night and Day

Under one roof

Forever apart

— B.





5 thoughts on “Night and Day

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