Stay happy, bro!

I have a brother,
And he won't bother,
But says my mother,
‘Do better, rather.’

I have a brother,
Don’t have another.
He’s now a father,
Owns home to gather.

This makes me sadder,
Or even madder,
That my bravado
Is desperado.

I kept it quiet
On mental diet,
Pushed to a riot,
In my life, private.

But does it matter,
Or it’s a chatter,
That one, the latter,
Grew somewhat fatter?

He was a sporter,
Now, wedlock’s porter.
Has to support her,
And those ones, shorter.

He’s in the kitchen,
On snacks he’s pitching,
Now, 'What a bitchen!',
Has food religion.

His phone is ringing
And there’s a meaning,
I’m intervening,
For quarantining.

‘Put on your sneakers,
And sporty knickers,
Forget of liquors,
We’re now ass-kickers!”

He is my brother,
We love each other,
Though his home buzzer
Thinks he undoes her.

He tapped her shoulder,
And gently told her,
‘We’re getting older,
And need health molder.’

So, in the morning
With no forewarning
The fat we’re scorning.
We’re twisting, turning.

Now we are clever,
‘Oh, well, I never!’
Apply however
Our best endeavor.

We jog together
In any weather,
In shoes of leather
We try untether.

Maybe I’m joking,
But he quit smoking,
Forgot the choking,
And now wet soaking.

Stop being yappy.
Irate and snappy.
Stay young and sappy
And you’ll be happy.