There is a girl I know who lives in the land of folk tales, she spends her time ringing her mind thinking of once upon a time. She was my sister Clara.
I used to admire her, and her imaginative dreams, the dreams one day she would grow up to be anything, but a princess she never wanted to be never should she marry a king and spend her age being queen. My sister Clara never queen.
All I wanted was to grow up and be a beautiful queen made to please, but she wanted to pursue her life and make her own money. And so she did she grew up strong, never needing anybody, my sister Clara could be anything.
But she had to steal my dream, she finally found my prince charming, she married him instead of me, and she was to become the beautifully pleasing queen. My sister Clara the one who stole my dream.
I could feel my face glowing red, I couldn’t hold my anger in. I through a dagger threw her heart plunging to her soul. She did not scream but only weep I had killed her and my dream. My sister Clara and my broken dream.
She went on to get married without my consent she already knew what I would say, after the night we last met. I yelled at her and released my rage trying to break her every hope but in the end my sister was strong and her spirit shined through. My sister Clara queen to everyone except for me.