Everything's going to be okay.

There was spring in his soul.

Athletic, funny, loving, and considerate.

He was everything a teen should be.

Hot-headed with a cool demeanor,

he had a personality so intensely intricate.

He was a loving brother of two sisters

and the son of two hard-working parents.

He was the masterful king of pranking at the age of fourteen.

There was fun in his stride as it was always apparent

holding a smile that would spread from cheek to cheek.

He was always running like a well fueled machine,

with that unforgettable red hair turning blonde in the heat of summers gone by.

Beautiful piercing blue eyes were the focus

of the palette that contained his many different hues and colors.

Everything's going be alright.

There was Summer in his heart.

PCP, Pot, Coke, Acid, and Crack.

The disease started too early.

He was only fifteen and his friends weren't so much friends.

There was no turning back.

He let the drugs eat away at his innocent mind.

Paranoia set in causing havoc in his thoughts.

He began to lose things

that were never lost.

Talking to him was no easy matter anymore.

He was supposed to be the king of kings yet

he was in a constant volatile state.

You couldn't get close without

slicing your feet on the eggshells he placed.

His youth was a reflection

in the mirror of a lost past.

He was slowly fading away,

wearing from a battle that never ceased.

If I can get away from this.

There was Fall in his head.

Everything went from bad to worse.

Alcohol and drugs were not a good mix.

He went in and out of rehab centers

repeating the same verses after verse after verse.

The same repetition went on repeat

and in and out of liquor stores he went.

Sometimes he came home too wild to restrain,

as he continued to spiral in his everlasting descent.

He came at his dad numerous times not with words but with fists,

this constant torment becoming too much to contain.

His sisters were filled with fear as cops held him down

beating him senseless until he stopped resisting.

Crashing to the floor went the kings’ crown.

If I can save my worthless life.

There was Winter in his eyes.

He came home drunk again.

That day no one woke him when he fell asleep for they knew better.

There was no doubt he would lash out,

it was a question of when.

In the afternoon he woke up,

and no one was around.

He grabbed a rope and walked outside into the shed,

closing the doors behind him after tossing his hope to the ground.

He silenced his thoughts and focused on his task.

By the time he was done his hands felt like lead.

He pulled a chair toward the center of the small space,

Everything screamed in his mind and at the same time

it was quiet in his final resting place.

Slipping the noose over his head,

he breathed his last breath in the darkness

He kicked the chair away.

At the age of twenty-seven,

the great king flickered and was dead.