My heart races and my fingers numb
When I think of your face, your putrid face
And remember how you were my
Brother. You would care, you would.
You, you, you, you, you.

Your selfishness.
You told me many things, a mentor for my madness.
You gave me many things, a lifeline nonetheless.
You had me at your disposal, your simple
Puppet. You would care, you would.
You, you, you, you, you.

Your bitterness.

Give back the childhood you took away
The preteen madness that should have been.
The growing up that should have been, the
Laughing that should have been, the
Smiles, squeals, joy, fun, me.

What I could have been!
I am the daughter of Chaos!
I am the breeder of turmoil!
How could you do this to me, your
Sister? My past rages though my veins,
Madness, terror, anger, sickness, outrage.

My own demise!

The past burns me, and I know it burns you
Groping in the darkness, feeding off hysteria
The tendrils of Wrath caressing my soul and
Mind. The disarray corners me
Every single day, every day.

My weakness.
This was not the life I asked for, not the life.
The scars still bleed upon the limbs, empty flesh.
The heart still grieves for the sullen warrior
Child. The embers of pain open my mouth.
What I know, I know.

Our past.
?
It’s this that puzzles everyone:
How does one remain alone? How does one
Walk warily while holding on to one’s own? How does one
Continue? How does one continue to forgive you?
Care, defend, worry, want, need?

Love you?
I walk corridors of confusion to reach you.
I trudge through trials and burn my bridges.
What I could have been, what I am today, the
Child. The child that still searches for her brother.
Brother, mentor, lifeline, defender, hero.

Where are you?

I’ll search until I see Everest and the craters of the moon.
I’ll search for you ‘til all the stars die, ‘til all is gone.
I will never be whole, never be what I wanted,
Never. But I’ll breathe in the smoke and fire.
Madness, terror, anger, sickness, outrage.

Just be.
My skin will scar and fray like aged rope.
My eyes will dull like a tired, old sword.
But through the anger, lack of hope,
A world. A world my life will have explored.
Just be, oh, just be.

For me.

I trudge through this life, searching for many.
Desiring many, believing in many, deserting many.
The gourd holds dust, not water.
The sack holds crumbs, not bread.
My Phoebus, take my soul away, for

Together, we’re not dead.