Cry {Brotherly Love #1}

Talking to my little brother....

Sadness in my heart becomes the moisture in my sight,
the visions in my head brought on by voices in the night,
my daughter's voice is crying to me asking "Daddy why,
did someone have to kill him; what'd he do so bad to die?"

The answers I don't know to give just come and hold me kid,
it's not our place to question God for we can only live,
this life that's given to us in the best way that we can,
until that fateful moment comes when death may grab each hand.

I haven't slept a wink cause when I go to close my eyes,
I wake with fleeing glimpses of the troubled soul inside,
my body and it's called unrest but I can only try,
to make myself move forward staring up at lonely skies.

This moment in my life is something that'll stay with me,
forever as I'm breathing up until I lay deceased,
and as I try to stop emotions that won't pass with time,
I flip my hood and light a Black to just sit back and cry.

Rest in peace little brother.

©2013
The Cunning Linguist

Author's Note

My little brother was murdered Oct. of 2013. In dealing with the emotions of that, I started writing a series of poems called Brotherly Love. This piece is the first.