Letter to Mom

October 14, 2012
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He is not my brother.
My brother would know the difference between right and wrong,
Important and peripheral,
Meaningful and inane.

He is not my brother;
My brother would emulate the best of everyone
And ignore the imperfections.

He is not my brother.
My brother would not call the odious “stupid”,
And then aspire to beat them in a game of “who can do worse”

He is not my brother.
My brother would not be offended by a harmless word of observation,
And then continue to damn them into hell.

Do not tell me to resist it, and do not tell me to be kind (
For I have failed before I could try)
And especially do not say that he is my brother.

I should not have come home today.
I should have waited until he went to the park
Or ‘till he went to sleep.

Why would you say that I am always like this?
It’s just today that I have so much time,
Time to argue with a person like him.
It had been peaceful for a year:
No trouble, no noise, no communication,
Simply because I had endured and ignored him for one year.

I had too much time today—
It’s just today that I had the time to talk
Talk to a person who always has enough time to waste.

He is the supercilious frog
Who rules at the bottom of the well.
He basks in the glory of his home
And mocks those who are humbled by the sea.

How do you not see it?
He is not my brother.
My brother is dead
And you’ve adopted his murderer.

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