I found an old video of you, holding my hand and walking me out of my room on Easter morning when I was barely 2. Would it be wrong of me to ask you to grab my hand and walk me out of this burning home. Is it wrong of me to ask you to make your journey longer. To ask you to crawl through more smoke-filled halls just to find my room. Would it be wrong of me to ask you to help save me too. Brother I would carry you. I just need you to knock on my door and say I need you. Brother at the end with your smoked filled lungs I would give you mine as long as we can make it outside. Brother, I need you to show me you need me too. The fires getting hotter and we're both locked in our rooms. But one scream, one single peep. I would leave this war zone behind with you. I could be there for you. I could be more than the tale of the annoying little sister. I don't know how to prove myself to you. If you could just take the steps. We could walk out of this mess together. Brother just say you see the fire.
YOU ARE READING
The live's I've lived
PoetryThis is a collection of poems and pieces of writing. That I have written over the last 2 years of my life. I've never been one to actually live. To take the risk. A lot of the things I have written are about things that have happened in my head. Or...
