My Foolish Little Brother

 

What is a clan? What is a village?

To that there lies a many adage

But is it same, is it worth

Our swords, our sheath?

You despair in my death

You despaired in my breath

Yet what you yearn

You never seem to learn

My foolish little brother.

 

What is real? What is an illusion?

The perennial floating vision

The pale orb, or the crescent?

Red Camilia or its scent?

Life under an assumption steadfast

Words fail and unquenched thirst

Pain and agony, the fruits of war,

Rise and fall as our momentary stupor,

Is it not true?

That one’s reality maybe another’s

Illusions?

 

You honour your clan,

You murder your village,

You honour the village

And shed your clan

You flip a coin,

And wait for a song

But even ‘fore the drop

The song has no romp

But morbid foreboding for us

Unsheathed sword for us

And death.

 

You despair in my death

You despaired in my breath

Yet what you yearn

You never seem to learn

My foolish little brother.

 

Forging other’s paths, lost within

My memories’ sullen din

While you, little brother, wept

And I hoped you fought and slept

In vengeance for the day

I would be killed by your hand

And Konoha would love you again

But I was wrong

So now you shall see the truth

How before Mother and Father I shook

What I did for my village

The ancient ever-true adage

And how I tried to love you

But never could change you.

 

No more despair my death

Nor the pain in my breath

For, from now on no matter

My foolish little brother,

Whatever you choose to do

I shall always love you.