He looked up to me
And I never told him
He was everything I wanted to be.
I cry
out with my rage
An angry voice pierced the night,
But silence was my reply.
Bitter
tears wash my soul,
Never again can my heart be whole,
This is a wound time cannot heal.
Am I
qualified
To say what is good or bad?
Not hardly.
Can I
say
What is happy or what is sad?
Yes, but only for me.
Some
may agree
And some may not, right now I really
don't care,
My insides are tied in knots.
You
see, I dreamed a dream
For my little brother,
But, I woke up one day and he was not.
Is
that good or bad?
I'm not qualified to say,
But, I know it makes me sad.
By Errol W. Angus
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