125

He drank his bourbon 

I drank my gin 

We were both sad

Neither of us could win 

Grief is among us

Grief is in the family 

I wish we could all be happy

Not that I’m not 

Or my dad isn’t 

But we’re both sad

Losing a son or brother 

Is life 

For some 

For many 

Unfortunately for all the chosen ones 

“What did we do wrong?” 

Can’t we go back to eating shrooms and smoking bongs?

Things would just be so great if you weren’t gone 

That’s on me to move on 

Likewise it is for you

Will we ever truly?

Things can get pretty rough

For some reason, the author of my life’s story

Just can’t seem to get enough 

It’s not my choice 

But very much my own doing

The author of my story, and the devil

Must be screwing  

I’m hoping 

The rest of my life is a big climax 

Or at least I’ve hit my story arc’s lowest lows

Only time will tell.