'Come,' you said
taking me by the hand
leading me over the jagged rocks
so I wouldn't get wet.

'I'll show you my song,' you said
and once in the cave
(sure no one could hear you)
you sang out your heart
with a clear voice
and eyes shining brightly.

'Do you see it?' you asked.
And I saw.

But the next time you looked at me
there was a deep scar on your cheek
and your eyes were dead
like a stone
polished clean.
And I saw.

I saw you withering.

I saw Father
with a green piece of glass
from a beer bottle
in his hand.

If I am a sister
I have a dead brother
and if I'm an only child
then I'll have trouble explaining
that fat drunk
too young to be my father
too old to be a son
on the sofa
rambling about performing
with crappy lyrics
and hoarse voice
to be greeted with applause
like no other.

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