Account to whom what choice
did I have growing up
with hypocrite parents
Case closed never open
disguised so none could see
the lies behind our doors
Creatures of bad habits
drink to excess often
somehow make it to work
One and all loved father
but me his punching bag
pugilist without sense
Under circumstances
beyond my own control
I your second-born son
Nothing but second rate
under your roof I held
much promise for trap floors
Tamed as a wild monkey
you always said you found
me in a basket words
Absent of love malign
and malicious you chose
family on your own terms
By chance our paths diverged
you stayed near warm weather
I found all four seasons
If I mattered to you
I never knew you felt
anything but deep shame
Labels by the doctors
you took me to needing
no second opinions
If your sister were sick
I could be sick as well
nobody was to blame
Take genetics as fact
I was given no choice
thrown out like spoiled onions
You spoke often about
accountability
see red flags hear alarms
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