A pot containing ashes,
Placed upon a shelf,
Bringing back mixed memories,
Of when I wasn't by myself.
I used to have her with me,
Everywhere I went,
She watched over me with wary eyes,
Counting money that was spent.
A sister can be so protective,
This one was for sure,
Every single morning,
She'd knock upon my door.
My sister died so tragically,
In a bad car crash,
Her ashes should stay peacefully,
The pot can never smash.
(this isn't actually true, I just randomly thought of it!)
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