I have no words little brother.
Time kills, and it won’t let me say a thing.
The tears paint my eyes little brother.
And I can’t see a thing.
You were my anchor, my solid ground.
And I’m struggling without you here.
I’m a junkie too my sweet boy.
Please help me survive the bottom.
And they offer up their hands,
to console my tender wounds.
Friends and foe alike.
But these scars are not ready for healing.
This crushing reality rips through my heart and soul.
I reign it in and pretend everything is okay.
I’m trying to be strong, for you, for us, for everyone.
But I’m having trouble turning this page now.
Reconciling with this vicious pain continues to test me.
My heart is broken, and the void is deafening.
I’m not alone in this, we’re all doing our best, making our amends.
But no one can be prepared for this.
This just isn’t how it was supposed to be for you, for us.
I don’t know that there was anything I could have done to save you.
But I’ll spend each new day of my life evaluating if that was the case, and doing whatever I can to prevent another tragedy.
RIP little bro – Patrick Mark 1979-2016
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