I sometimes wished things could go back to when we got along
Spending Saturday mornings together
Stretched out on the living room floor
Watching cartoons under our homemade tents
Created from fitted sheets and box fans
We were brothers then.
I sometimes wished things could go back to when we got along
Before mama talked shyt about our daddy
Saying he was cheap and no good and a junk collector
Damaging the possibility of us knowing him better
While we were brothers and he was our father
Too young to know what was the matter.
I sometimes wished things could go back to when we got along
Before your “friends” from the heights told you I was a faggot
Teasing you for having a sweet younger brother named Brenda
Embarrassing and shaming you; you didn’t know better
They didn’t know better but hurling
Harmful words and fisted blows didn’t change a thing.
Karma is a bitch
We may not be as close as we should but we’re still brothers
And I pray no one teased his daughter the way he teased me
And I hope you both understand and know I never made the
Decision to be who I am anymore than you made the choice
Of having me as your little brother
Love always,
Brian
PS: I don't think we turned out too bad.
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