It’s me your sister.
I know you are not my full brother,
But just a half-brother.
My father is your father.
My mother is not your mother.
I wish I knew you
But at least I know of you.
You used to come visit before I was born.
I have no memory so my life is torn.
I hope one day before I die,
That we will no longer live a lie,
And come to realize that we are more than just
You and I.
© 2014 Dara Kalima