Like Father, Like Son

He doesn't know what his words do to me. They are like poison. Like a knife, just pinching the skin at first. Then they cut deeper and deeper until not much is left. Why doesn't he get it? He hurts more than he understands. One day things are going great; then he will come home and things will go the exact opposite. I want to say something, but I hold back. One day though, I will snap and yell until he gets it. He will not have what is left of me. I've given up enough for him. For everyone. I continuously sacrifice to help for the greater good, but this is not the greater good. It is not the greater good when you yourself become the item of destruction and ridicule. It is not worth it, and he is not worth it. He is no longer the same. He is no longer my brother.