A friend said my life was near perfect.
In some ways this is true.
But really, it isn't.
My brother yells at my mom
Almost every day.
He never gives her respect
The respect she deserves.
My friend comes from a life,
Maybe not as good as mine,
But she doesn't know,
How similar they are.
I wish my brother
Would come to his senses,
And treat mom
With respect.
Hearing theses arguments,
Day after day.
Most of the time, I'm the only one.
Both my brothers did,
As did I.
The older of the two cried,
The younger didn't,
The wisdom of a simple child,
Doesn't seem to work.
I feel like crying.
Why doesn't anyone listen to mom?
We're not perfect.
No, we're far from it.