You are a billboard,
used only to advertise the latest trend,
Two dimensional and peeling at the edges.
False.
Layer over layer of lies,
whoever and whatever you need to be,
and at the centre of it all is truth,
under all the pretence.

A Catholic bracelet,
the Virgin Mary on your wrist,
yet no idea what a rosary is.
A Jewish necklace,
the Hamesh Hand above your heart,
and completely oblivious to the idea of Kosher,
to you, religion is a fashion.

Your every movement posted for the world,
crackbook, Twitter.
You live for the public,
but in private you are yourself,
Still a child, still in need of protection,
still human.

You cover yourself in designer brands,
and smear your still-adolescent face with makeup,
to become what everyone expects,
what they think you are.
And I mourn the process, like the death of a loved one,
as you kill your real self,
so that the monster may reign.
The monster that society created.
And I,
I stand there,
and wait for my sister to return.