I wrote a poem recently (ish) about little brothers…
If you have any younger brothers, you can probably relate to this poem. Enjoy!
When my little brother runs around,
I think I need a brother pound!
He steals my stuff and tears it up,
Is it time yet for his nap?
Next thing I know he’s shooting me,
With a gun in hand and kicking my knee.
Then he’s playing with figurines,
Killing them all with war machines.
When he’s finally done with that,
He runs outside and chickens scat.
Off somewhere to make more trouble,
He smashes rocks, creating rubble.
Then he finds a stick and pretends
That it’s a sword until it bends.
He’s back inside, racing through the door,
His next idea is mushing Play-Doh into the floor.
I try to tell him not to do that,
Immediately after I wish I hadn’t.
He’s so angry with me that he hits
Me as hard as he can with his little fist.
How can a little guy hit so hard?
I think for life my arm is marred.
He’s spanked for the fourth time that day,
“No spankings if you’re good,” I hear Mom say.
Ten spankings and he cries just a little,
So little, in fact, it’s actually pitiful.
I race upstairs to my room and find,
His name all over the wall is signed.
When I run back down to tell my mother,
There I find another bother.
The toilet is clogged in the bathroom,
And from his room I hear a BOOM!
When I clean up every mess,
I wonder how my day became a stress.
But on the couch I see my brother,
Listening to a book read by my mother.
I realize he’s not a monster after all,
And I don’t wish that he lived in a stall.
Even if you annoy me a bunch,
I love you so very much.
What about you? Do you ever wish your brother lived in a stall (kidding)? 😛