Juggernaut Specials

Point Five

Ten years ago my brother was a teen
Debauched, derided; also damaged and depressed
By folks who would address him as point five,
Ensuring thus his life was muchly messed;
In grieving he found solace, strict and sound,
So he wept in the mornings, mewled with might;
What he eyed in the inns he was lodged in
Were mates desiring to mate at night;
When none was seen around, each willed to sin,
Approaching then my brother, my dear kin.
Like piscine creatures waggling each fin
While dawdling hither and yon were the thoughts
Assailing happy moments once enjoyed
And bringing sadness, life with lots of noughts;
My brother was called point five since his walk
Was like that of a lass and likened much
To dames that were abiding far; his speech
Was quite high-pitched, possessing girlish touch.
The folks he was acquainted with would breach
Rules made, not one or two or three but each.
So, lessons he had wanted, hoped to teach
The folks who took away the joy he had,
Ones prizing pleasure but not clement acts,
For their darn acts just made my brother sad;
And thoughts suppressed were no less than big bombs
That would blast with the slightest of insult,
Evoking each emotion that would harm
And stir up many an acute result;
When grieving stopped being his valued balm,
My brother slew himself; lost was his calm.

Image by Myriams-Fotos from Pixabay

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