Father, Mother, Brother.

My mom always said
dysfunction runs deep
in this family
like
a million paper cuts.
Hidden until
you wash
with soap;
Then they
sting.

My father always said
resentment runs fast
in this family
like
river water.
Soft until
you fall in
and choke;
Then you
drown.

My brother always said
they both never knew
what it was
to be alone;
They had
substance
for that.

But in all the madness,
you'll always have me,
little bro.

- - -

This feels...so long. -_- I'm not a fan of long poetry, really I'm not. But it seems like lately I've been having trouble getting my ideas down in a small span of words. But I guess it's all part of growing and developing: both are perpetual and never stop. They also cannot exist without each other. Hmm.

Anyways, this is for the Thursday prompt at Poets United.