My Brother - Mental Health Awareness

He’s still here.  I’m calling the police

On your brother, father to your nephew and niece

Who is mentally ill, drugged-out, the homeless degenerate

And so must accept this harrowing fate, while you wait.

You see, my brother was my roommate in a sense

His trailer neatly stowed behind the fence

Of my manicured yard and stately house

Where he lived quiet as a mouse.

Except when he smashed my car stole my doll broke down the door

He followed the rules, was polite, and more

Took out the garbage, repaired the washing machine

Kept the gutters nice and clean.

My husband had left me, my four children had grown

And I lived in this big house all alone

But it wasn’t my house, all I did was rent

And so when it was time to leave, I went.

My brother remained, and the landlord was pissed.

It seems there is something, yes something you missed,

He yelled in the phone at the top of his voice

As though I had left my brother behind by choice.

So now I sit and wait, with breath abated,

My curiosity and anxiety unsated.

What happened when the police showed up?

Hours later, I still don’t know, but the whole system’s fucked-up.