My brother broke my finger and he set my hair on fire
He put it out with urine from the baby’s pot, the Liar
He stole the meat from off my plate and stuffed in his mouth
He still denies he hurt me but I will tell the truth
When my leg was broken, he asked me for a race
I only realised later that his motives could be base
He ran away and left me, on the way to school
I was knocked down by a bicycle, my suffering was cruel
He stole my books, he mocked my choir, he criticised and lied
I might tell you other things I have bottled up inside
But one fine day I got a grant to go away to learn
I bought myself a pair of shoes and my luck seemed to turn
Later on, he told me that he loved me very much
He had been to Cambridge where he’d studied double Dutch
How my heart sings 
My brothers were wretched, selfish scamps, too. I don’t think they have any regrets or feel a bit of guilt. 🙂
That is what hurts, when they have frogotten and in my case I’ve lived with a damaged finger ever since
My stepbrother poured hot cocoa over my step-cousin, and she had a big puffy scar on her shoulder afterwards. I think she was about 4 when he did it. Luckily for me, all my bruises healed. They taunted me to climb to the top of the swing set when I was 5 or 6, and I broke my arm falling off. I still remember my dad shouting at me to move my fingers. I was unable to play tennis because that arm couldn’t take the repeated impacts. Sigh.
How terrible for you.It’s dreadful.. horrible for a little child
My upbringing was rougher than my kids. I’m lucky to have managed to have a violence-free home for them.
I am very glad to know you gave your children a better childhood than you had.I admire that
and wish you all the best, Katherine
I wish you all the best, too, Katherine. Maybe our brothers weren’t kind, but they made us tough and able to take on the world.