A mirror image sits across my bed
The ghostly image of the boy who’s dead
A cry in the night and the gun fire cracked
It’s not a dream; just a hard fact

Alex Thomas Avan was my brother and friend
Yet I pulled the trigger that made his life end
At age five I dug in Father’s drawer
I just wanted to scare him; nothing more

I said it wasn’t loaded; this I swore
Mom screamed when she opened the bedroom door
Alex’s eyes fluttered as my mom began to scream
The rest if fuzzy; as though just a dream

Blood stained by clothes as I was forced to the car
The police are sympathetic; they still today are
It was just a game; just a little fun
Now our days of playing are done

I was freed; my father put away
Three lives ruined because of that day
My father accepts his sentence; blames owning the gun
He says as kids, we thought it was just fun

I blame myself and I’m not alone
Seven years later, my closet still moans
“Bobby, why’d you kill me? Leave me behind?”
“Until you join me, your soul will be mine.”

My brother tries to strike but fails
One day I fear he will kill and prevail
I’m haunted forever for the choice back then
But will suffer now for I killed my twin