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ProseChallenge #67: Write a poem about grief.
The most eloquent, elegant, entertaining entry, ascertained by Prose, earns $100 and stays atop the Spotlight shelf for 24 consecutive hours. Feel free to invite friends, distant family, even strange acquaintances to play this challenge with you anonymously. Please use #ProseChallenge #itslit for sharing online. Once the challenge ends, the winner will be chosen and a notification will be sent. The coins will transfer to the Prose Wallet within 24 hours.
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Vi

My Brother Wayne

Eyes white, teeth grit, nostrils flare.

You were not in control, you were deranged.

     Blood pumped, fists clenched, slow expel of air.

     I had to do something, you had changed.

     You lunged, arms flailed, everything strewn.

     Mum and dad cowered, fight of flight?

I stood, searched frantically, panic ballooned.

I grabbed a carving knife, plunged it to the right.

Legs weakened, mouth agape, blood gushed.

     I realized, I too was someone else.

     Scream galore, tears flowed, expressions crushed.

You laid there, your eyes tried to confess.

"I'm sorry," you said.

     "Hush mate," I said.

          "I'm sorry," you said.

               "Hush, hush now," I said.

               Lips curled, eyes softened, breathing slowed.

          In that last breath, I recognized that soul.

     Eyes wept, fingers trembled, lips bowed.

In that moment, my heart was a gaping hole.

Your name was Wayne, you were my bane.

     You were my brother, no one knew me better.

I loved you dearly, twas sad you left too early.

     Now you're gone, who's gonna dye the hamster blond?

I sit here alone, feeling the chill in my bone.

I sit here alone, reeling from losing my clone.

I sit here alone, hoping one day to atone.

I sit here alone, waiting to go home.

(Based on a true story)