I'M Not Frightened (Really) Part Four, A Brother's Tale Poem by Owain Glyn

Our Marie, she drives me mad
She's always fighting with my Dad
And then she's crying on the phone
It's like living in a hostile zone.

She brought home a guy named Lloyd
Now there was one that you'd avoid
His voice was real high-pitched and loud
His dandruff hung there like a cloud.

He dressed a lot like Liberace
Claimed he'd bought it from Versace
He might have got away with that
If he had not been quite so fat.

His flesh poked out from several holes
is stomach settled down in rolls
But I think that what finished it
Were his attempts to try and sit.

He breathed in deeply, shook his hair
And bent his frame to meet the chair
What happened next, I think you'll guess?
Suffice to say, the chair's a mess.

And that's the problem with Marie
She doesn't think sufficiently
One day, maybe, she will see
There's a cost to love, it isn't free.

My Dad says she is predatory
And she should be more like me
Who's soft and kind, in every way
I haven't told him that I'm Gay! ! (Yet!)

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