My foreboding turns into delusion
As I told him he needed to be better.
I feel like the Asian mom haranguing 
The child because they aren't quite at the level.
Of course, he goes, and instantly gets accepted.
Oblivious to the fact that I am right.
I don't say these things to upset him,
Only to make him better.

Yet, maybe my pleonastic prose are his sour notes.
Maybe my long first paragraphs are his tawdry bends.
Maybe my attempt at Pentameter is his sweet picking
Or, perhaps, he is just better than me at everything.
His professors laude his writing skills;
All I see is that it needs work.
He plays his guitar well,
But then must play fast,
And when he does, various inarticulate notes creep in,
But perhaps I am the only one that hears them.
He beats me at chess, a game I've studied.
He beats me without studying it.
However, I have been quite dull these days
With my mind flattened by the stress.

Maybe I am just mediocre.
Maybe...

But, I tell him my folksy wisdom
To choose his notes.
And he succeeds, and I fail.
As he takes a test online for his class,
I say a silent prayer, "Don't let him fail."
Because my failure is enough to break me.
No door opens, my poems don't make it to the search page.
What's more frustrating, is that everything I do
Is hedged in, and I cannot break free of it.
I see him skipping over fences.
I ask myself why this is?
It's not jealousy;
It's just watching someone else succeed
While I languish in the pit I have dug for myself.
I speak, and it doesn't come true.
All the better if it doesn't.
Yet I can't help but speak...
I try to well up the words.
But they come out.
And I suffer for it,
Facing a wall of poverty.

Is it because I cannot trust in God?
Why would I trust in God?
God doesn't open doors for me.
Though I love him,
I feel like a caged pig,
A worthless, slovenly animal
Trapped in a cage;
But love is funny.
Any sense of true anger
Turns into thankfulness that my brother doesn't have to suffer this.
I am thankful that it's him suffering nothing,
And I suffer.

But, at some point,
The suffering needs to end
So I do not become a bitter man.
For love is funny,
In that I can be happy for my brother
Yet, for myself,
I will be unloving to all around me because my life is bitter
And all my joys are turned to darkness.