Being The Older Kid

The second that I was born,
It’s already set, and I was sworn
In, as the goody-two-shoes
For the rest of this lifetime,
Even in the most infuriating, irritating, annoying moments,
I have to keep my cool, not be shy
Be calm, and keep mum about any laments.
They hate it when I complain and groan
And frown upon me when I say it’s not just.
‘Look how big you’ve grown,
And yet, you’re making a fuss’
When I change channels,
The little one just wails like an ambulance siren.
When I don on my favourite flannel
‘Mom, don’t you love me anymore? ‘ cries the tyrant
Looking at my favourite boy band, and was called a flirt,
Cooked my favourite dish, not hers, and it was like Mt. Merapi mid eruption.
And I was drenched in that red, flaming lava, charred beyond recognition.
The raging inferno of flames within, melting everything in its way
Whatever I say,
Is Trash,
Garbage, unknown gibberish,
Insane nonsense
Just as I was about to explode
There’s more to add salt to the haemorrhage
When I see that devilish gleam in her eye
Just as I was about to sigh
Of how I never get the upper hand, probably forever,
Comes the biggest joke
‘So I heard you have been bullying your little sibling,
How brazen and daring of you, young lady
And now, you poor little sweetie, darling
I’ll make sure the bad guy gets her due scolding.’
That’s when I internally combust, and searing flames
Burn holes, right through the dirty flannel I retrieved from the drain.
Then again I wonder, who was the child who threw my loved shirt,
Into this decomposing pile of smelly dirt.

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