Write!

The transformation of my cousin from youth to man.

I've got nothing to share,

My brain is bumping up and down,

I feel pissed and I know no one cares.

Time long ago, cousin not my choice,

Teeth unglued keys in a piano, eyes full of hope.

We ventured mans sewer, smelled it's final destination.

He accepted to French Foreign Legion,

Disappears, for many years,

Later I learn, he is called the Butcher.

Today, his smile like keys in a Heitzman,

Serves me burgers, one, two, three, four!