Poetry: You, Brother

I've listened to all the words you say
The way they negative me... in every way.
You call me stupid; fine.
You call me worthless and dumb.
I can take some criticism.

You say that life would be better without me.
I try and ignore the feeling that you might be right.
You claim superiority and I fight myself;
Trying to make myself believe that you say these things
Because you fear that I might be better.

You say I don't swear because I'm weak.
You say I'm religious because I have no original thought.
You say that I take so long to do my homework because I'm dumb;
That truly smart people don't have to do the work,
Let alone have it take so long.

You say tears are for the immature.
You say all my friends are sluts because they flirt with you.
Why would they flirt with you?
(And even if they did, that does not make them such a horrible thing)

You make it a game,
Trying to see how many times you can make me cry.
And then you laugh as if each tear is a victory.
You say I'm ugly. I'm short. I'm fat. I'm stupid.

Yes, I heard you the first 100 times.
Please, say it again because apparently you don't think
That I heard you.
Well, guess what?
I heard you.

You say that I don't know love
(When I understand empathy better)
That I should be grateful to be appreciated by our parents.
As if we get treated differently by them
(If we chose the same actions, I'd doubt it)

You call me a hypocrite for being poor
And hating welfare.
For feeling sad when someone dies
When I believe in Heaven.
For wanting to preserve human life
While I live an omnivore lifestyle
For hating on feminism
When I point out some generalizations
(Because noticing that males are generally taller is sexist?)

You say that I hate you.
You say that I think life is better without you.
You say that I drove you to act this way.
You say that once again, it's my fault
For your actions.

You blame me for your faulty life choices.
You blame me for your insecurities.
You say that it's my fault that our sister is exposed
To the trash that you show her.
That her life would be better without mine.
Of course, you say this with profanity.

Eventually, I talk back.
Eventually, I snap.
Eventually, I cannot handle hearing all of this negative garbage
That you constantly spit at me
As if I was some vagabond on the street.

Then you want to fight.
You start with more emotionally based garbage
That you pretend supports your fake political views
That you use to argue that my God is a joke
That you tie into the secrets I idiotically told you once
So many years ago that I forgot.

Yet the pain is still fresh.

I hear it all
But I respond too.
So of course, you believe
That I "like the sound of my own voice"
And wasn't listening at all.
When every word you utter punctures my heart just a little more.

So you get madder and madder
And then you take a swing.
So I hit you back
And then we start kicking each other.
And you think it's funny.
So I end it.
And then you take another swing
Which of course,
Bruises me.

And then you make it out
As if the fight didn't happen
That I threw one
So you threw another back
Even though yours were stronger
More painful
And left bruises.
Mine never did.

Then again,
You never did know how to hold back.
I almost always do.

Then you complain
As if I forced you
To get into trouble
As if it was my doing
That made you act poorly.

And so the cussing begins
Again.

The mocking never stops.
That evil glare always is looking down on me.
It haunts my nightmares
And scares my fears away
With its horribleness.
Great monster in my closet,
I wish you were a demon.

At least then, I could summon a priest
To perform an exorcism.

You say that I'm such a "daddy's girl"
When you try your best
To rival him in personality.
And all the actions you perform in anger
Are the ones he did less severely
That you loathed and swore in oath
To never repeat yourself.

But of course,
Unlike our father,
You never regret the decisions you make;
Because of course,
You blame them on me.

You mock my dedication
My choice of friends
My negative opinions on things that you highly value
My perseverance
My values that difference from yours
My hard work (as if trying your best is pitiful)
My struggles
My emotions
My happiness
My choice in clothing
My singing abilities
My voice
My looks
My logic
Me.

When was the last time
You appreciated me?
When was the last time
That we shared a smile?
When was the last time
That the word "brother"
Did not shake my heart with fear?
When was the last time
We played together out of mutual desire?
When was the last time
That we rode our bikes together?
When was the last time
That we held hands?
When was the last time
That I knew you?

Before you were depressed, certainly.
Before you sliced my wrist, definitely.
Before you revoked your faith, guaranteed.
Before we attended the same school, of course.
Before you taught me all of the dirty secrets of the world that have forever tainted me.

I did not want to know swearing.
I did not want to know drugs.
I did not want to know abuse.
I did not want to know how to skin a cow.
I did not want to know "adult cartoons".
I did not want to know crude humor.
I did not want to know metal.
I did not want to know familial issues.
I did not want to know loneliness.

But you showed it all to me anyways.

You opened me eyes to the world,
And I saw it covered in darkness.

Then you spent the moments that I look at it in horror
To whisper with malice in my ear
That what I see
Is my fault
And my fault only.

So is it?
I'm asking you, brother.
As someone who apparently knows the world better than I
As someone who has lived on this planet for 2 years longer
As someone who believes that they know all the right answers
As someone who constantly says that I'm wrong...

What fault in the world should I call my own?
What part of your life have I impacted so greatly that I am to take blame for it all?
Why do you go out of your way to harm me?
What about myself do you find so much enjoyment in torturing?
Are you sadistic?
Am I a masochist for staying in contact with you?

It all hurts too much
And I fear for far too long.
Am I past mending?

You were first word, brother.
I fear you will be my last.