MY LITTLE BROTHER

 

ROBERT MARGETTS

MY LITTLE BROTHER

I’m not one to complain,

but having a little brother

is a REAL PAIN—

the kind of pain that makes you want to run away

and join a circus just for some peace and quiet.

 

He cries just to get attention,

and everyone makes a BIG FUSS over him—

like he’s the King of Babies

and we’re all his royal servants.

 

They play with his hands and toes

like he’s some kind of tiny celebrity,

and they even make STUPID FACES—

faces so ridiculous

I’m surprised they don’t get stuck that way.

 

They tickle his belly,

they fluff his bed,

MOMMY kisses his ears,

and DADDY nuzzles his head—

honestly, it’s like watching two grown‑ups

turn into mushy marshmallows.

 

Now,

I NEVER understood why

my older sister hated me so,

for I was not nearly as BAD

as little bro—

not even close,

not even in the same universe,

not even on the same planet as

THAT wiggly, giggly,

attention‑stealing bastard they call my brother!