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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2222637
Not your typical sibling story.
My brother was kidnapped
And the grief, it still remains
His bedsheets and pillows
His posters and coffee mark stains.

My brother was stolen
In broad daylight too
Grabbed and shoved from the side-walk
Strangled till his lips became blue.

My brother was grabbed
From a street not far from here
Whilst he was out on his bike
And when the coast became clear.

My brothers clothes are tainted
In misery and neglect
My brothers old family
Didn’t take long to forget.

My brother sits in front
Of me, on this table
Shaking and scared
His situation is unstable

Because if he moves a muscle
Or laughs on his own
Or frowns when I smile
His brains might just be blown

Onto the pretty little painting
Right beside his head
Still speckled with blood
From my last brother who said

He wanted to leave.

And his eyes are bloodshot
He smells the stench
Of blood-soaked carpet
His mind beginning to wrench

As he eyes up the mould
Beside the rocking horse
I can see him beginning
To plan his escape course.

But he will not leave.
Oh he loves me so
My darling big brother
With his mind yet blown.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2222637-My-dear-old-brother