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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.

You Had It Worse


Don’t be angry,

It’ll only cause trouble.

I only end up lectured

So don’t share your anger.


Hide it behind

The mask of indifference.

If they ask what’s wrong say,

“Nothing. I’m fine.”


I’m sick of showing anger

Only to be met with a lecture,

Advice I never asked for,

And platitudes that worsen my attitude.


I’m sick of people saying

I shouldn’t feel this way

Because they had it worse.

I was just having one bad day.


If they ask what’s wrong,

I’ll say, “Everything’s fine.”

If they pry, I’ll say,

“I’m fine. I’m sure you had it worse.”

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