Scars
My brother likes to tell
The story of the scar
That runs half the length of his thigh.
Everyone asks if he was in a car accident
But he smirks and says,
"My sister did this"
He knows I feel guilty again
And again.
I was young, I say
I didn't know any better.
I don't remember the incident
well, but I do know
It was my fault.
I remember the toy box,
The broken lid,
The nail.
I remember the screams.
I remember blood.
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4 comments:
Ouch!!! Well done...a testament to the childhood memories, good and bad, tender and not so tender.
I bet he just loves telling that story! Nice work.
And you seem such a nice person! You make this experience very real for the reader.
It probably served him right!! (I say that not knowing your brother and out of loyalty to you).;
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