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
About the Creator
meka carter
Journaling life as I grow through what I go through.
IG: @cartercaptureslight
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