![www.facebook.com/WRRPoetry [This Brain]](http://wordsrhymesandrhythm.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/this-brain.png)
when thy brothers offer me nought
and though thy maker made thee great
thou concealeth thy face, you worsen my lot
What then is thy use up there
since idleness is thy close friend?
should I not in one blow
strike thee and fashion thy end?
But nay, I needn’t, for harm to thee
is harm to me and thy brothers
But how then did I glean this
since my brain for nothing bothers?
Shall I make my premise on this then:
that thou worketh thus when harm cometh thy way?
And thy primary being is made distant
when I need it to make headway?
If thou feeleth slighted or adjudged wrongly
speak now and hold not thy peace
for today this issue we must resolve
and the pact sealed with a kiss.
Written by: Jude Uchella
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