My sister.
Worried about what she wears.
All she did was talk on the phone.
She ignored me.
She laughs.
"Why can't you be like them?" she says.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I can't be like them.
I'm sorry that I'm not what you want me to be.
I'm not you.
I'll never be.
I'm glad.
I'm glad I'm nothing like you.
Glad.
Glad, that I am ME.
Not you.
My sister.

Interesting style, very bare, and open. I like the idea of the poem, but not the form and structure you put it in. That's just my opinion though. My personal style is very detail oriented though, and yours isn't, so I may be little biased. Like I said though, the idea is good.