He was stubborn and naïve, even for his age. Four years older than me.
But I still remember everything. Not too long ago.
He stood up for his friends and stood up to his family.
Because his friends never asked where he got his money from
they never cared, as long as it was coming.
But above everything, he was nice, he was funny, he was fun to be with.
Until that night, wooden bat to the head, smashing, bashing and crushing his skull raw,
it was supposed to be a fun party.
Drinking and dancing,
dancing and Drinking
until nothing made sense anymore.
Some friends he had, suddenly nowhere to be found.
But he loved them, fought for them. They didn’t love him back.
There he was in the middle of nowhere, stumbling and slurring through darkness
No one even took the time to dial three numbers for him. Just left him
stranded, deserted.
Alone.
Now he is only a shadow of what he used to be,
not funny, not nice, and a pain to be with.
I don’t hate him because he changed.
I love him because he’s my brother and I know he loves me too.
Even if he is the most flawed person in the room.
Poetry
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That was really powerful. Wasn’t expecting that tragic ending