Dear Brother


It was not uncommon for me
to come home with the mocking words
of mean kids already etched on my face,
only for you to bombard me with everything
that I wasn't. It was easy to set you off
spewing the shrapnel that was your words with that
Gatling gun mouth of yours until I was shredded
on the inside. Many times you said you wished
you weren't my brother; Many times I wished the same.
After all, I was a game of Jenga to you. You amused yourself
by picking out brick after brick of my confidence
hoping that I would crumble.
So is it any surprise that I often wondered
What are brothers for?

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