They tore the blanket in my pram in two
I could not sit up but I could see
Is this what older brothers often do?
I have no other memory nor a clue
I could not speak nor could I even flee
They tore the blanket in my pram in two
Ambivalent,dynamic,what’s this glue?
They fought at every chance,ignoring me
Is this what older brothers often do?
Parents were not there,that’s nothing new
Where do the feelings of the mute dwell silently?
They tore the blanket in my pram in two
Still these speech-wrecked moods descend on me
How to transform fear, indentity?
Is this what older brothers have to do?
Intense emotion feels too sharp. though true
The feelings push and shove inside of me
They tore my knitted blanket into two
If I’d had no brothers,I’d be who?
