Becky

My little brother was,
Giggly, fun, bubbly, rude,
Silly, funny, annoyingly sweet,
Dimples, smiles, addicted to food,
I loved my little brother,
And yes, I still do,
But he's not my little brother any more,
He's someone new,

He still has his dimples,
I'm sure of that,
I've don't see them anymore though,
You've seen to that,
He cries all the time,
But not of laughter anymore,
He cries all the time,
Because he is so sore,

You scare him, you beat him,
You make him cry,
You want to defeat him,
But you can only try,
Because my little brother,
Has got me,
And I've got him,
We will succeed,

You'll tear us to shreds,
I'm sure of that,
But we'll sew each other back together,
And we'll get you back,
We'll get you back,
For all you've done,
Years of terror,
Are just no fun,

My little Brother,
Is eleven years old,
He's behind at school,
As he's always told,
My little brother,
Is struggling lots,
But I love him so much,
With Jelly Tots

There's a reason this poem doesn't have a rhyme,
It doesn't have a beat,
Make you tap your feet,
Sure a couple of words will fit,
But when I'm talking about you...how can it work?
How can I talk about someone who's an object to me?
With a beat, a rhythm and a harmony?

I remember sprinting down the street,
In my freezing bare feet,
My new replacement dad was standing there - you,
But you are no replacement,
I know I'll never get him back,
And I could do with a fatherly figure in my life,
But all you've given me is pain,
Bruises that heal,
And along with them - bruises that don't,

When I think back through my life,
Millions of images flash through my mind,
Like the first time I tied my shoe laces,
Or the first time I rode a bike,
I cherish these images,
The good, the bad,
But when the image of you runs into my head,
I don't even feel it, it's like I'm watching someone else's thoughts,

You mean nothing,
I've realized that recently,
I don't care anymore,
I can't look you directly in the eye,
You're an object,
No-less than an object,
You're a spec of dust,

You are real,
I know,
I'm not saying you're not,
Sure - you have blood, lungs, a brain...all the things I have,
But they are all just jumbled together,
With no purpose,
You're just there,
A life support system,
That's supporting nothing,

Because there's nothing to you,
You're just an object,
Who can hit very hard...