Little Sister Worries
A poem

There’s something wrong with my brother. Can’t lay a finger on quite what it is. He broke curfew to mother’s horror and came home early hours in a tizz
He appears to be growing a beard. It’s spreading over more than his face. His voice goes so deep it’s a growl and he eats at a monstrous pace.
He’s grumpy and surly if woken too early. He sleeps through ‘til late afternoon. I had trouble sleeping myself last night. I swear I heard him howl at the moon.
