Dear Brother

I hate when you come to me with your 'big'problems. With 'life-threatening' crises. You know nothing of them. You sit here, You bitch, Bout your car, and your love life. Put out in the real world you'd find you're in real strife. I'd laugh til I choked, watching you fill my shoes. I reckon first day'd see your head in a noose. You think i'm a fuck-up. An adult in childhood. I survived by my fifteenth more life than you ever could. NAUSEAUS.You make me feel so fucking sick! Are you really that soft? Or're you just fucking thick? Whatever your crisis, from minute to petty, Will always stand arms outstretched mummy and daddy. Who's waiting for me with their bottomless wallets? Nutritional meals and clean clothes in the closet? I no longer feel the pride i once felt. In handling this shit hand of cards i've been dealt. Please, won't someone sit down and explain to me why? When your down you're picked up and i'm left to cry. I'm honestly shocked to find from this i bleed. Was it things that i did? Or was it always just me?