It's all about perspective really. You can seemingly change the outcome of a situation by how you think of it. In this case.. It's as clear as past-
And present.

Past-
A young brother passing away
A childhood void of a father who was too drunk
Raised by a sister because mother was too busy
Losing three people who had become family through divorce
Now having a father that's too busy with his new family

Present-
A brother no longer in pain from his 17 years of fighting illness
A Dad desperately trying to make up from lost time
A Mom and sister that have so much love and care they take care of others
Have three toxic people removed form my life- bad influences taken away
Having a wonderful new Step Mom and Three new siblings and a very in love and happy Dad.

It's all
      how
you          
                  look
      at
it.

I'm like a pencil
My lead has run out
And my eraser is threatening to be done

Everytime I try to help
Or fix something
It wears out more

I'm wearing thin
Paper thin
I'm afraid that I don't have any more to give.

Because at the end of the day
When the makeup washes off
You see the dark circles and red bumps
You see the ugliness that was badly hidden

Because at the end of the day
When I takes off the mask
You see the weak little girl within
The one I try so hard to control

Because at the end of the day
I lay in a small bed,
out numbered
By thoughts and the world.

I spent most nights of the summer
Laying in the middle of my floor
Sobbing silently
Screaming your name as my family slept

I miss you..
You left so suddenly
Now it's just emptiness
This time of year is always hard..

Thanksgiving was you're favorite
Mom let you eat anything
Despite what the doctors said
Two days a year..

Thanksgiving
And
Christmas..
Little smokies once a year- just for you.

But that year..
You left ten days too early
To be able to taste them
One

Last

Time

Am I really
So easy to forget?
Do you think
That I'm a ghost?
Do you think
That I wouldn't notice?

I'm actually okay with this
I'm use to it
I've felt myself fading away
For months
I'm disappearing

I understand how
I can't stand to look at
Myself for more than
A minute.
So how could you?

Firey hot
Burning through the crowds
Burning through the endless voices
Together we will burn though

Just barley red
Where you just touched me

White- where you lingered.
Bubbling up through desire

But perhaps.. This is the wrong kind
Is there such a thing?