My brother doesn’t like dark meat
He gets the white meat
A plate designed for him
We sit in silence
As we enjoy our meals
A happy family, all too real
But nothing can stop the feeling of betrayal
Arising in my gut as I enjoy my meal
It’s always been this way
For every circumstance
I accommodate, while they desolate me
It may seem minor
But I never received my own plate
I do not like dark meat
But there’s only so much my parents can give.
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Author:
Nightsky0615 (
Offline) - Published: January 2nd, 2026 21:29
- Category: Sad
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
What a metaphor in this meal provided. Sometimes we have to give in but when it is always it becomes too much. A lovely read and a fave
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