Little Brother

322 84 26
                                    

The see-saws frosty as a Monday morning

for he

who sits without the small shade of a

big brother,

the "I'll hang with you later"

kind

that promised Mum he'd look out

for me,

proclaiming, "I'd never leave him for my friends"

kind

even when he hears the call, it's a no

my homie,

the "my little brother's more important"

kind

but when he's picked up with sunstroke and blisters

by Mum,

the "you've been manipulated"

kind


It doesn't matter that a

beating will be

dished

and

an allowance

will be revoked,

'cause, if only they knew

what he could do,

not to the world

but himself

What could he do?

Waiting for the Rain to FallWhere stories live. Discover now