He always hated me, since the beginning. Birthing red spills into a volcano was his tears when he wept. Mom forgot about Tommy. I was no more than his **** inside his diapers. I was a throwaway child. A rugrat. Unborn again into the womb. I had no spare feeling of bitterness when the salt sat on my dry tongue. I was fed of love. Brotherly love. I have grown to realize that my relationship was not composed of such gentle intimacy. The love was dangling on the edge and my grip grew less and less, with my fingers producing heavy perspiration. I let go and let a smile edge my cheeks.