Be prepared; you will die.
You were murdered in cold blood.
Before we watched the turtle die, we all had an idea of how our lives were going to be.
We are just weathermen predicting storms and reading from our cue lines on the back of our hands.
Waiting and wondering if it's an umbrella kind of day.
I sure hope it is the kind of day you want to wake up and forgot all of your pain and the person who took it away.
Even when the words escape your brain, you can picture it.
I can see it all over your face.
You were just a kid.
Tell me where you hide all of your pain.
Inside your mothers arms?
They won't believe a word you say.
They let him go with no charge.
There were two brothers that had the world in front of their eyes.
Visitation rights and politics.
Airport terminals on our Friday nights.
If I am assembling a puzzle, all that matters are the pieces in front of me.
I don't care how it got there.
Let's start with the corners and work our way in.
We find ourselves forcing pieces and getting in our own way with wondering how it all began.
Father, you will burn.
Your reign will overturn.
Your pills will go unfilled.
Your bastard son.
You said I was too hyper to come see you when your time was up.
Eating through a bag on the side of your body, while the cancer takes your life and slowly eats at your insides.
Skinny, like the time you had for me.
You never wanted a family.
There were was no note left; no presents under our tree.
You are just like me.
You let the fog in.
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