You’ve had to brave life born into poverty and without the resources that most of us rely on to survive. You’re a brilliant soul, kind. I admire the kid you are.
Second in line to walk poverty’s line. I barely know you or you me. We stare at each other when I come to visit, “auntie with the education”, I’m your black-sheep.
My older sis. You still call me ‘baby sister’. As children, you cradled me in your safety, until the day I grew older than you, and then I began holding you.
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