Baby Brother

I did not know who I was

There were things I enjoyed

But none took up much more than my peripheral-

I was fixated on how and when I would leave.


One day, he walked into my room-

his face was still grubby and round then-

And asked me if I had ever thought of running away

Or dying.


I had though before that my baby brother was too young

Too soft

Too unknowing

To see my scarred skin

But I rolled up my sleeve.


The hurt already so ingraned in that green youth

Could not be worsened by my absence.

I could not go away.

His big sissy who he loved so dearly and looked up to-

I could not take her away from him. 


My youth suddenly stared at me and promised to become adulthood one day, if only for this kid.

I can not be a selfish child anymore. 



This poem is about: 
My family


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