My brother,
Has been laid to rest.
And my heart,
Has so never digressed.
Should I have never,
Shouldn't have ever thought,
That the family should be,
So permanently,
Distressed.
It doesn't need to be so much.
It doesn't need to be so tough.
Should I have never,
Should I have not ever sought,
Such an end-able thought.
As to want and wrought,
That thought.
My brother,
Alive, and so well.
And my heart,
Rings true the darkest bell.
Sense Then
It took a very long time for your sweater to lose the smell of your cologne.
Though I hesitate on letting my mind still think of it as yours, the sweater, that is.
It has known my closet as its home for three years, and I won't deny I've worn it out more times than I can count.
It smells of me now, I guess.
Since, I smell of you mingled with spearmint and the last of your smokes.
Had I been Less,
I could have soared. I am sure.
Had I been more, I'd have lost.
I enjoy my peace, with pieces.
I bring my peace, in pieces.
And I enjoy the rejection.
For Id rather take it,
And spare your distress.
The losses are worth more,
Because I succeed with bane,
Where others may fall, tore,
Waiting for a deed I bore.