I did not know who I was

There were things I enjoyed

But none took up much more than my peripheral-

I was fixated on how and when I would leave.

 

One day, he walked into my room-

his face was still grubby and round then-

And asked me if I had ever thought of running away

Or dying.

 

I had though before that my baby brother was too young

Too soft

Too unknowing

To see my scarred skin

But I rolled up my sleeve.

 

The hurt already so ingraned in that green youth

Could not be worsened by my absence.

I could not go away.

His big sissy who he loved so dearly and looked up to-

I could not take her away from him. 

 

My youth suddenly stared at me and promised to become adulthood one day, if only for this kid.

I can not be a selfish child anymore.