Dear Brother

Do I have a soul? I do not know. We cannot know such things. I'd like to think that it's not me, but my soul, that rhymes and sings.

When I was seventeen, I told you,
My deepest darkest,
And most devastating secret.
What he did.

What he’d been doing, rather…

It had become my demon possessor.
Strangling me. Choking me.
Every day killing me.
Crushing me.

Under its enormous weight.

And I was suffocating.
So I told you.
But you didn’t believe me.
At least not at first.

Not that I blame you…

Selfish it was to share with you,
My crushing burden.
But we’d been through,
So much shit,

You and I, together…

And how could you go on,
Living day by day,
In the same house,
With the same man,

Who did that to your sister?

Much easier it must have been,
For you to tell yourself,
I made the whole thing up.
That I must be lying,

And pretend I never told you.

7 thoughts on “Dear Brother

  1. I read this on your blog the other day and it really moved me, you express yourself so eloquently even on a subject that is obviously so painful and still raw

English, motherfucker, do you speak it? J/K - it's ok if you don't.

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