Kind of a weird story of rivaling sisters....enjoy and the structure is good all the wy up into the third verse
Between sisters, mean blisters, swollen, they didnt ever care,
They were never siblings, fate made them such a severed pair,
Born next to sand dunes, land tombs, and shubs and greenery,
Since birth, planned dooms, their soft lips, rubs sand scenery,
And one pair of one’s breast, the other sister’s scared to confess,
Is larger, per say plus she gets more looks, than conceited mirrors,
Waters never drunk, she’s ignored brooks, when the ‘feated cheers,
Less learned, chest burned, bored books, her diction’s her savor it,
The fiction’s her favorite, but her once slowly burning temper spikes,
She can’t handle fear, her candle’s speared, yearning whimper strikes,
Like a match box, pandora’s box latch locks, and the distracts watch,
The distracts are the ones caught in between, those not in the scene,
Iris is now on the rough edges, on edges, yet shes had enough ledges,
Iris now becomes more angry, shoulder looks like shes so paranoid,
Her music box playing, shes scared of toys, her red hair’s annoyed,
Truths are lost forgotten, so that means that now dares are void,
Iris, through thick and thin, narrowly escaped the terrible sand storm,
And Isis always has her hand held, that’s why her pairable hand’s warm,
Veins in eyes, pains in eyes, jealous eyes end the same exact fate as bulls,
You see an equal, Isis will free a people, then suddenly hate grabs souls,
Her eyes now blood shot, means that her tears are like the flood’s caught,
Iris is what the rose bud’s not, Isis now sits back and watches the mud rot,
But over time, her four leaf’s will wilt, proving its past its clover prime,
But now beautiful Isis, the much more powerful, will at all costs, seek magic,
She keeps at it, whatever she does, wherever she goes she always reeks havoc,
Forest fires, dried up hurricanes, drought because she deterred the rains,
Why is she so bitter, she has a porceline epidermis, attracting all except the ernest,
Why is she a slow quitter, thats her flawless skin, attracting nothing but the lawless men,
A marriage approaches, the carrage encroaches, wearing white to a funeral, black at a wedding,
Her methodical shun, keeps the prodical sun, away knowing he’ll be back at the setting,
The wedding ends, by letting friends toast as they watch you kiss, was it simply a kiss,
Or was it more, because the whore, loves the shore, was he kissing Isis, the empty abyss,
Isis the man eater, the plan needer, she smokes herbs, knowing shes a full blown carnivoar,
Everybody wants revenge, she pokes that porceline with a blunt siringe, her armor’s boared,
Invincible for yet a moment, she’ll harm the horde, wanting to know where her karma’s stored,
The faces in fields, hold the maces and sheilds, and different weapons, whether arm or sword,
All to take down Isis, they miss Iris, she asks why dont you kiss my wrist, as I lay more than Lifeless,
As her husband love grows with, the wilting dozens of roses, he went to war when wifeless,
That made no sense, and he knows sense, no cents, knows since he went with a sword and knifeless,
Iris’ daughter, in arts and crafts, made hearts and graphs, still in the phase with boys farts and laughs,
So with both dying, Isis on the windmill, shes sinned still, and its spinning faster than a fan blade,
She screams damnit, even though the horde knows, that her problem is not only man made,
But D plus, her planned grade, bred for sex by the gods, she is their angel with no horns,
So she is sent to them, the blood stained floor, the mud stained whore, strangel with no orange,
They just let her sit there, the town knew, the ground grew, with their new neighbor, new headstone,
Wheat field now, with the people’s feet healed now, she’’’ stay there until the white bread’s grown,
So as you eat Isis, because of the heat crisis, you can almost hear Iris say, you can meet my sis,
She killed me, so sometimes I flaunt she killed her pest, I will her less, then had her buried in the wilderness,