My lambs wool jumper.

My merciless mind goes traipsing through my time bank of bad memories.
Other people's bad management, misuses from my past .
Coming from nowhere. Coming from everywhere.
The memories just keep on coming .
My brothers . My mother . My father . And my sister.
Not a nice memory . Not a nice word form me.
Egregious individuals. And a devastating pack .

Three letters came one school morning.
I was six and my brothers a little older
The postman posted three  brown envelopes
All a little weighty .
With a little bit of money .
We all three got a sixpence.
We all three got a letter.
So unexpected. A complete surprise!
The excitement of a letter.
The two older boys got theirs from God .
They were good boys .
Mine came from the devil .
I was a bad boy .
I was a humphy backit wee nyaff .
In writing . From the devil .

But thought I  was a lovely boy .
Big brown eyes brown hair and dimples .
I never felt bad .
I never sought danger or conflict.
But I was .
In the middle of a battlefield.
Theirs .

You are a bad boy . I am a good boy .
You are being a sook . I am being a good boy .
You always want attention. I am an ill boy.
You always show us up . I am a funny boy .
You are stupid and lazy . You are trying to break this boy .

There I was as their swords flew and I battled their rages.
In my armour.
Made from my grandmothers soft wool jumper .

So soft and gentle and protective .
She let me choose the soft lambs wool.
It wasn't jaggy .
It didn't irritate.
It  wasn’t abrasive.
And she made up the cost .
With every stitch .
She stitched with love .
With love for me .
Her boy!

The battle rages on inside .
The shell shocked boy now a man .
Still wrapped in the warmth of his gran.
And her protective lambs wool jumper.

The velvet glove of treachery  .
The matriarchs have spoken .
The licenses are handed out .
Each confederate taken their token .

Got on their boots and knuckledusters .
All tooled up for the fight .
Not one of them can look at me .
Cause they attack in the dead of night .

Blindsided by a cowardly clan .
Of narcissistic rage .
All have been infantilised .
And remain that early age .

The women ruling at the top .
So bad they only worsen .
Clever , charming , well educated .
And they masters in coercion .

Hard . Not strong .
Dispassionate , cold and fully flawed.
Disdainful righteous  haughty .
Acting as one God .

But if they meet the real one .
They shall be shaking in their shoes .
Ten pounds in a Sunday plate .
And an hour in the pews .

Is not enough to save them .
And their narcissistic clan .
They have tried to ruin me .
A good and honest man .

I moved away . Said nothing .
And I never shall again .
They never did deserve  me .
In their demonic like domain .