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Broken Record

My brother’s like a broken record.  He tells me about how we used to bike around the neighborhood pretending we were race car drivers, and how we’d gained multiple knee scrapes from turning the curb too fast. He’ll tell me this story twice, thrice, or even four times in a row, and laugh about the good ol’ days. I laugh with him, because though he doesn’t remember that he’s already told me this story for the fourth time in a row, he does remember the fun we had. My brother’s like a broken record, but I don’t mind one bit.

Things You Broke

You broke my picture of our family

With Mom, you, my siblings and me,

With us all smiling, carefree,

I thought we were perfect, blissfully.


You broke the trust I had in you,

When I figured out what was true;

You prancing around the street,

With dying harlots, and covering it with deceit.


You broke the trust I had again

When, with the help of Aunt Reagan,

You locked us out of our house

Both us and our Mom, your spouse.


You broke the respect I had for you

After all these things, and more too.

Such as when I learned that, like a flower cut before it could bloom,

You wanted me dead before I came out of the womb.


You want to talk because you think

Your words will blot things out like ink.

But what could you possibly say

That would make all your actions okay?


I will never see you the same way I did before.

I will never let you in again through my life’s door.

I will never acknowledge your existence,

And if I do, I will only see you as a pestilence.


Now it’s my turn to lock you out,

I don’t care if you whine or pout,

I’ll start a brand new life,

Where you won’t be around to cause more strife .


Something new I will create,

Something you will never break,

Something you will never see

For I will keep it hidden, safe with me.

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