Nickname, Nine-Volt Tester, I preferred Weasel,
if, as a nine year old, I accept this torture,
neighborhood kids, sadists, and, of course, my brother,
even older brothers cannot be trusted, sell
Victim number nineteen, little brother to hell,
only mom and dad count to him, simple and pure,
left on our own, latchkey kids, no one would bother
to ensure our safety, he cared for me, oh well.
To allow your firstborn son to do as he likes,
entertain himself as he pleases, beyond view,
simple and pure, neglect never questioned, issues
tease the world, full of lies, while on a bed of spikes
every physicist knows the sun shines cool fire blue,
resolve the pain, trauma, forgiveness in the blues.
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