Turning about in my cold bed,
Sleepless nights the sobbing led,
Calling forth all I imagination I could muster,
I try to bring forth all details memory could fester.
Mother’s complexion, tall like father,
Eyes deep brown with all I could gather,
I tried to picture him in my mind,
My blood, whom I, in my heart enshrined.
Born two months too early,
With hair, my Granny says, somewhat curly,
He lived barely a day,
And passed before I could see him, even from faraway.
I blamed them all my Gods,
Gave me hopes they did loads.
For I lost my very own blood,
The sorrow with which my heart did flood,
I hated them all, hated them much,
Hated even the one that came next,
Was it hatred, or was it envy,
I realised it was neither but the heart that was heavy.
To none could I tell the tale,
For I didn’t want to be seen so frail.
When I tried, my eyes would well,
My heart, heavy with emotions, would swell,
For about ten years and one more,
Did I burden my heart with this lore.
But no more! No more, shall I hold you too tight,
Time has come for me to take flight,
Weighing me down, whatever may,
Shall be shattered to clear my way.
This is goodbye my dear brother,
Shall you find love and family in life another,
I free you from myself,
As I free me from myself.
Tonight my pillows won’t be wet,
No more tears, no more fret,
This time I bid thee farewell,
Let everything be according to Their will.
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