Childhood

The youngest of the six of us...
Let me grow up without a fuss...
My brothers they were there for me...
One of them,I looked after you see...
From a very early age...
A nurse I became, but in a cage...
To be there for my eldest bro...
It was so hard, youd never no...
But Mum and Dad were both at work...
Was up to me to help not shirk...
Then there was the sisters see...
Just wanted them to, accept me...
But jealousy would rein its head...
Me being the youngest, nothing more said...
But I was happy, my Dad with me...
Mum was good, she'd smile you see...
I had my brothers, my Mum and Dad...
Them sisters they just made me mad...
This is how we grow and learn...
Photos of us thats what theyd burn...
But memories are there for keeps...
Them in our heads, no need for weeps...
So choose where all, your memories go...
Theyre not always, just there for show...
I look to fondness of childhood...
Collect nice memories like we should...