charitee

for my brother, whom i miss more than he could ever know.

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Clinging to the music,
Crying in the cold.
Alone within his own head,
Feeling tired, feeling old.

Wanting something simple,
Praying to the gods.
Feeling lost within his spirit,
Dealing with the odds.

True in his intentions,
But not always to his heart.
Needing to be perfect,
As it all just falls apart.

His stomach cramps in knots now,
His soul just needs a break.
His mouth is dry like cotton,
How much more of this can he take?

He worries that hes crazy,
That hes closer to the edge.
His mind goes far too fast now,
He thinks hell sleep when he is dead.

Hes desperate for a break now,
A time to listen and to heal.
He wonders what hell learn then,
What his true self will reveal.

Hes such a beautiful person,
In the way he takes the time,
For everyone one but himself,
Its thrown his life out of rhyme.

His music is his souls expression,
The notes, his thoughts on page.
It keeps him feeling grounded,
It stunts the under lying rage.

Perhaps hell take try his passion,
Perhaps hell hit the top.
I know now why he does this,
His mind just never stops.