My brother and I used to be the best of friends. We'd run, and we'd play, and we'd talk until the day's end. That all started to change when our parents took their sides. He was far too young to be able to decide.
He said to me, "It will be all right".
He lied.
Then seven long years passed, and he lived in another town. A vagrant was he, with a self-indulgent and inscribed frown. I had no idea what happened, but he blamed her for all of it. The drugs, and the lies, and the women, and his conscience.
He said to me, "It will be all right".
He lied.
It got better, and it got worse. He never lost that unshakeable charm. But divorce shook him harder than the filth going into his arms. I look to God and wonder how he's made true all of my dreams, but his love and his family are thrown away under his feet.
He said to me, "It will be all right,
it will be all right".
He lied, it's not all right even though I've tried.
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