Sister

A cage for three room for two one had died to free herself Spoon for one she feeds her slave the one that weeps and begs for her warmth She watched us all with satisfaction in her eyes I was the one that nourished her soul with tears in my eyes and blood on my knees She neglected the other constantly feeding me she glanced at me "I love you" she said I peered at her with anger in my eyes we call her sister but she locked us up I shattered her pride and broke her heart she got upset she let me starve She called the other and gave her food i cried for mine she looked away On my judgement day with my last breath i called out "sister" she smirked at me I called her again she took her hand and plunged it in my back I smiled at her Finally, I was free from 'sister' too This is my first poem with first person pronoun, mixed up tenses, and a few punctuation. This is because my friend, which I used to refer to as 'sister', hurt me in everyway possible. I didn't know I was trapped until one day I stood up to her and gained my freedom, but in doing so it paralyzed me. I was angry at her, but now i just feel sorry for her.