To trust or not to trust to your own flesh and blood? by Zuzana Kučerová

Being a teenage girl, a difficult time.
Image is number one, objection a crime.
As the “older, wiser” sibling I misused my power.
Just listen to the story of my sister’s downer.

Dancing ball in two hours, don’t know what to wear.
Glitter all around, make-up everywhere.
I just got the idea to make my eyebrows cool.
Like models from a magazine, I take a shaving tool.
To my surprise it goes well.
I really look like a supermodel.

My sister notices the piece of great art
and does something which isn’t that smart.
“Susan, I’d love you to shape my brow too.”
I seize on the wave of trust like voodoo.
“Of course, my sister, I’ll try my best.
Just sit there and close your eyes, I’ll take care of the rest.”
An innocent girl sitting in a chair,
no idea her sister is being unfair.

Put down the foam, look in the mirror
“How, could you – my flesh and blood – make me inferior?”
“Oh, sister, sorry, I didn’t mean it,
I guess the foam accidentally spread.”
My second piece of art looked water in a desert;
there was none, no eyebrow to be depicted.

Looking back I’m not proud of my small crime,
but that night it was really fine
to see my sister, just twelve years old,
dancing at the ball with eyebrows bald.