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To My Little Sister
We may not get along every day
And We fight more then we play.
As voices raise and words are thrown.
Where our minds go no one knows.
Awful things leave our lips
as object slip from our fingertips.
Words are thrown
and things smashed.
How did thing get this bad so fast?
But when things are done and we're out of breath.
We look around and see what's left.
Broken bits of prity thing
Old glass jars and shiny rings.
Toys that doesn't mean a thing.
Then we look across the room.
Locking eyes and grabe the broom.
We have a lot of cleaning to do.
In the end all we have is a sister who now is sad.
All the thing that were said
Ring in our heads as we lay in bed.
Hindsight is twenty twenty you see
And I'm sorry that I was so mean.
But I wouldn't let those words leave my lips.
We will always come back to this.
Awful words leave our lips
Objects slipping throw our fingertips.
