We were born
baby A, baby B.
I became Kara
But they'd say her name.
I'd turn,
knowing what they meant,
though blonde and blue are nothing like brown.
The apology would rush after
my identity,
but too late.
In that moment,
I was just half,
half of an inseparable pair.
My identity
is easy to lose
when it's associated with her.
Not half.
Not the same.
Welcome to here.
I'm not her.
We were told to write a poem with our name in, a sort of introduction to the class.
ReplyDeleteI've never actually suffered an identity crisis due to being a twin.