In the Mind of a Little Brother

A rustle, a crash, a groan, a scream
Awoke me from my blissful dream
The peace shattered, I opened my eye,
“Who dareth awake me, and why?”

My sister sat there guilty-eyed
A broken vase too, I espied,
And as if to complete the tale
Her face became a ghostly pale

Her hand with broken shards was filled
The shards that the vase’s corpse had spilled
Her white frock became a morbid red
From the blood that her guilty hands shed

I stared down at her quivering face,
“In fear, woman loses all her grace!”
So felt I, as I stared down
At my sister with a menacing frown

Tears down her face came streaming
Pathetic guilt in her apologies teeming,
She wrapped her bloody hands round my knee
Groveling and blubbering her desperate plea

I softened my tone, stroking her head
Sat her down on the edge of the bed
Laying to rest all her qualms,
I took her into my comforting arms.

Naive Woman! To believe that I,
Her brother, would not deign to lie,
She sighed in relief, let down her guard
And I stabbed her with a jagged shard

Her neck first I did pierce,
Stabbed at it with a passion fierce
As soon as her writhing body went slack
I went to work upon her back

A merry tune I whistled and sung
As I sliced into her now lifeless tongue
Then I carved a message on her face,
“A woman must always know her place”

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