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The Boys

Fraternal Fates

By meka carterPublished 5 years ago 2 min read
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My parents console aching hearts daily for the loss of their son

A hurt worn on their faces during ordinary conversations

When flashbacks turn tones somber and tears begin to run

Their eyes close, and visions replay of that depressing December day

A heartbreaking responsibility when required to secure a plot

A painful affair to behold, witnessing my parents bury their child

One year, three months, and two days past age thirty-one

Laid his head to get some rest, body much too weak

Demons took advantage, secured his once animated spirit

Forever put him to sleep and in an instant

Denied family the opportunity to plead for its release

Father, son, brother and CEO - at one point living his grandest dreams

Unable to grasp control after the concoction seeped into his bloodstream

A shadow now looms over a once merry season

Leaving behind three young kids not yet able to fully comprehend it

My protector, fourteen months older

Struggles to stand lucidly on his own two feet

Dreadfully gives in to his demons, help he's afraid to seek

A misguided attempt to avoid being labeled as weak

His disease more mental but with a chemical co-defendant

All but guaranteeing my parents’ hearts will break once more

A second plot may be required to lay their oldest son

If he continues to ignore what poisons him wholly

Memories too heavy for his tongue and lips to speak

Twenty plus years later a victim, pain he bitterly refuses to release

Parents unaware, for they would blame themselves for this tragedy too

An animal took advantage, placed her hands greedily

Forever re-routing my brother's future

Regardless of personal wishes, my desire to observe him heal

He must choose to let go, this distress he must no longer conceal

My heart will forever mourn baby bro laid six feet below

And for big brother who threatens to join him

In a desperate effort to escape his diseased dome

For my folks who are despondent, unable to avoid taking blame

For decisions their two young boys made in life trying to pave their own way

My Father who never cried publicly, now sobs for the world to see

And my Mother, the strength of our family, is weaker - in constant prayer on her knees

In desperation for her Savior to spare her remaining son

Hopeful she remains, but it seems the damage is already done

For mental illnesses and chemical dependences have gone undiagnosed

And addictions accelerated once substances found comfort within the boys' souls

sad poetry
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About the Creator

meka carter

Journaling life as I grow through what I go through.

IG: @cartercaptureslight

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