Predicate thoughts drastically ravage me
As I sit and ponder ways to murder my brother savagely
I keep asking me…
is it worth it? For my mother to mourn
But then I remember how dastardly, they treated me scorned
My father blamed me for his condition, on his life it was sworn
I was the reason he was declared retarded after the day he was born
Due to the sequence…he was ease dropping and overherd the nurse
Say that this wouldn’t of happened to him if he was born first
I’m beaten daily, and called all types of names by the sort
And reminded that it’s my fault he’ll never see his son date or play sports
Wish it was fiction, my mothers’ old school so she lives by tradition
So she’ll watch me get treated like shit and won’t go against him
Has friends as policemen and never will mention
My fathers abusive to me, she won’t even raise the suspicion
Or utter a sentence in vain about him, it’s like her thoughts are suspended
I don’t exist to them; they give my brother all the attention
Enraged by jealously and anger love is no longer permitted
All I want is some affection, and for him to call me his Princess
It’s obvious I won’t get this; I’m starting to believe it’s my fault
That my brother can’t talk clearly and awkwardly walks
I think I love him, we play often under a neighboring tree
And my heart softens when he struggles to try and catch up to me
Or is it pleasure? Cause sometimes the site is lovely to see
When the kids tease him, I laugh with em’ cause it’s no longer saddening to see
Him crying and weeping as they pick with him, it’s time he felt agony
Instead of shelter and safety from our parents and the blaming of me
I use to think I was sick for dreaming that his throat would get slit
Or that I poisoned him in his sleep or murdered him quick
But now I realize that these thoughts that parade around in my brain
Are what gives me balance and keeps me from going insane