It spins and spins until I feel lost. 

Panic.

Fear. 

I cling to this life I long not to belong to

The familiar scent of my brother's spray-on-sunblock making me cry

The irony in everything I say or do.

The mask I constructed many years ago has begun to wither away with age. 

But I can still wear it with ease and it's tricked so many so easily

Why does that little box tempt me so

It's my own little Pandora's box, considering Pandora's blade never worked. 

I've opened it so many times

Wondering if I could get away with it. 

I feel the pain start to draw me in.

It hurts more than I imagined, but the idea of being gone is enough to keep going.

Yet that scent of sunscreen still draws me back

And I cling to it like my life source

My reason for being here normally wishes I wasn't

And that's killing me inside

He screams and yells at me, making me worthless.

Yet without me, he might be gone by now. 

I am his protector, so I must stay in this wretched life

This wretched world bashes me down to make me hurt

Then heals me to hurt me once more.

My brother's words always sting, but I still know I am needed.

As I try once more, I realize something.

Maybe I won't need my Pandora's box after all

The sunscreen is doing Pandora's job.