happy birthday to my sister: "grand-daughter of ransom eng"

my sister dyed her hair blue, when the time was right
she sat typing away through the evil y2k

she was my genY
she met me in tears, over ransom's ashes, that so much aggression was leveled at me
i explained, i loved her so much, that i would rather that i suffer the wrath of mother
than her

for as horrible as it was, i would never wish anything so horrible on my sister
i would rather i be tortured than she

i read about unethical medical experimentation
all the sunny day yestern
and spoke to brother, who sounds decidedly like ransom
i toil over whether "grand-daughter of ransom eng" is meaningless, menacing, imposing, or arrogant

i worry over the steel grey passion i felt for sady
i worry over these things
and the sound of Ms. Fritz on the line
and her assurances

and whether i said the wrong thing, speaking of England