You spoke of a family; where we were like brothers. You spoke of a time that all would be well! You said I could always count on you, but the only thing I could count on was your constant disappointment. This life is not about some checklist, regardless, ”all your lines turned to circles in time”. With self-righteous indignation, your lies came crashing down like a ton of bricks. Your perfection is an addiction, and it has consumed you for far too long. So now you miss the beauty and simplicity of what was your greatest gift. Did you taste the glory when you stabbed me in the back? When you called them to tell them your story, was your compromise worth your satisfaction? You’ve made your spectacles from the timbers and you can’t see the light. So your anger burns, the embers cast a shadow on your path home. You were a bastard just like the rest of us until we both found a Father. Condescension became your anthem and double standards your banner! Someone else was always to blame for your self-induced hardships. Now I am glad that you’ve gone because I got tired of your hopeless laments. You were so consumed with complaints it’s hard to believe that you were ever happy. Instead you planted a garden sowing nothing but discord and discontent. And now I’m so thankful that there’s three thousand miles of fence to keep your poison from infecting me the way it once did.
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