Yes, Mother. I see her.

She's your little angel,

Your pride and joy, the

Apple of your eye. She

Does what she's told,

She's good at everything

She does, she cleans up

After herself. She makes

You proud without even

Trying. What does

That make me, Mom?

Am I the screw up?

Am I the flawed first try

And she the perfection

After you refined your

Technique? Why do

I even bother asking

When I know the

Answer? I'm a rebel, I mess

Everything up, I'm irresponsible.

Does that make me a bad

Person? Is that why you

Ignore me? Is that why

She's more important to

You? Mommy, please, I

Just want to know.

Why do you love her

More than me? I'd give

Anything for you to look

At me with the same look

Of pride. What do I have

To do to make you see

All I want is to make you

Proud of me?