She just sits and looks down
On others of lessen rank that are found
For she has a chip on her shoulder
Put there as she was moulded
Into what she had now become
But she did not know what had been done
For some carry the mantle true
And for others it could be a burden too.
© Paul Warren Poetry
I know two sisters, know em fairly well
The younger ones from heaven
But the older ones from hell
There's no fear of mistaking them
As they look worlds apart
Younger ones a ferrari
Older ones a horse an cart
I've never had the pleasure
Of takin big sis out
That's not to say I'd like to
As she has a real big mouth
She has a chip on her shoulder
And an inferiority complex
Rumour has it she eats her partners
After using them for sex
Little sis is different
I've had her between the sheets
She goes like a race horse
Her needs are hard to meet
She is really an angel
Once you get her out of bed
She's thoughtful caring beautiful
But its a mystery inside her head
Sometimes though she goes sycho
Always tryin to pick a fight
Then returns to being a princess
Always in bed before midnight
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