Brother
Brother
Brother, we were both betrayed.
We lost our childhood quickly.
Now our lives are disarrayed,
twisted, torn and sickly.
Now middle aged and still we’re lost,
not knowing where to turn.
Surely we have paid the cost,
the bitter sting, the burn.
Drinking, drugs and therapy,
denial and delusion.
Some for you and some for me,
but still there’s no illusion.
I have to watch you kill yourself
With magic little potions.
As for me, my drug of choice,
my torrent of emotions.
Nothing seems to work for us.
We search for resolution.
Like a wound all red with pus,
still seeking a solution.
Let’s carry on dear, day to day
and plod through our existence.
I wish you luck on your merry way,
the way of least resistance.
As for me I’ll struggle through.
Try not to cry too often.
I pray to God for me and you,
Our landing he will soften.
Johanne R Deschamps
Previously published in Survivor Today Magazine
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