To the sister I’ve fought like storms against, Daylight battles, loud and intense, Words thrown sharp, tempers high, And you ready to choke me if I pushed too far—no lie. Yet somehow, like the sky resets at night, We’d sit again, everything… alright, From chaos to calm in a single day, Enemies at noon, by evening—okay. You, my strictest teacher, my personal roast, The one who teases me the most, Your normal talks, a comedy show, Punchlines hidden where no one would know. You’re not the loud, always-happy kind, You’re quieter, deeper, a different design, Like sunlight slipping where no one sees, Like strength that bends but never leaves. I still can’t believe you’re eighteen now, When did life even allow This level unlocked, this quiet shift, When you still feel like the same old gift? And all those threats—you’ll leave, not stay, Hostel life will take you away, First of all, rude, second—not fair, Third—I’ll still come find you there. Honestly, I’ve never seen you “grown,” You’re still just you, still my own, My built-in comedian, my steady ground, The kind of rare that’s not easily found. And somehow, effortlessly, you still remain One of the prettiest—like art without a frame, A Pinterest kind of beauty, soft but bright, The kind that doesn’t even try for light. Keep shining the way you always do, Keep growing into every version of you, And may you be a doctor, strong and wise, Successful enough to not need my legal advice. Stay this mix of chaos and grace, This quiet strength no time can erase, Because the world has copies—but not your edition, You’re rare, no need for any addition. Happy 18th—step into life, strange and wide, And still be the sister Who stands by my side.