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My little brother died this week, so I am writing a poem. This will not be a traditional poem, it will be like Beowulf. A story, but a poem. And I am taking it one step further, I am breaking the 4th wall. This has been the intro.

My little brother was 11 when he died, I raised him since he was a baby. I was in fourth or fifth grade when he was born, and I thought he would be with me forever. I never though he would be gone.

When he was tiny I taught him to walk, I answered his questions, and I was mean to him, like any big brother is. But I changed. I wanted him to get older, I wanted him to be a part of my life. For the past few years I had been treating him like an adult, and answering anything and everything, as well as revealing some of the secrets of the world to him. Letting him know things other kids wouldn't even understand.

I miss him so much. I feel like I can get him back somehow, like I just have to invent something, or do something and everything will be ok again. But I know deep down that that is not true. But I will continue to carry his legacy and shout his name at the mountains, because he is not dead, he is with me. He is there when I watch TV, he is there when I smoke, he is there in the silence and he will be there when I fight. I will spend more time with him now than I ever could have before…

Arts | Literature


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