Terror Never Works for Long

The older, more fragile
Brother had a better
Understanding of fear,

Which he wielded to scare
His impulsive younger
Brother, enough to keep

Both of them safe, those years.
Yeh, you’re bigger, little
Brother, better fighter,

But I know where you sleep,
And if you’re ever caught
Being wicked, you’ll catch

Hell from me before you
Know it’s not a bad dream,
Before you even wake.

That worked, a little while.
His brother feared bad dreams.
But they were never close,

And they went their own ways.
We’ll spare you the details.
Forty-some years later,

Little brother was sick
And sad, falling apart
From too much hard living,

And he had heart attacks,
One, two, three, four, of them,
Then slid into coma

From which he couldn’t wake,
Not even for bad dreams
Brought by older brother.