Green isn't my color
In the sixth grade I gave myself up to art
And let the waves of mediums carry me wherever my talent let me stay afloat
You did too and I even helped you start out
It didn't affect me much
I was glad to share it with you
But when you wrote that poem
That poem you were shy, but proud about
Not even knowing whether it was good or not I felt a pang
A pang that's sharp, piercing and to the point
The pang let me be aware that I'm scared or jealous
Scared that writing won't be my own anymore
Jealous that you could be better than me
I can't find where either emotion ends
And I would be lost, lost because this is my love
Writing is mine to run with all the way to the finish
But now I must share it with you and let your light shine next to mine
Not yet the same consistency, but it could be and it scares me
Because it could be worse
I could be the flashlight next to your sun with time
And I feel the need to have writing for myself
And have it stay that way, little sister
My shadow has become its own little green monster
It's so disgusted with me it won't get up and follow me
And then, little sister
When you smile and ask if your poem is okay
I would share the world with you