My sister is dead. How can I sleep?

The thought plagues me as I try to close my eyes. My sister died. My sister, she died.

The words don’t seem real, yet they’re all too familiar like I’ve rehearsed this moment in my mind another time, another place. Did I? Or do we really live in the matrix in some twisted, fucked up time and space

Continuum. That was a good show.

Please read my rhymes, please hear the flow.

In my words.

I write because I’m afraid to speak even though speaking would give me some plausible deniability. Well, maybe not in today’s always watching world.

I don’t care if it’s ammunition for my enemies because it heals me, it helps me.

I get to be a roadmap for others.

I was born to share.

My heart.

My thoughts.

My hard-earned wisdom.

My battles scars are breadcrumbs if you’re on the same trail as me. If you’ve felt immense pain like me.

But my sister is dead. How can I think of anything else?

Finally, the tears. They’ve stayed in all night. I had to close off from my sister. I had to. She kept breaking my heart. My mom never gave up. Never. Not even when it cost her everyone else. And now she’s gone and my mom is alone. She never wanted to be alone. I tried to be there for her. She doesn’t make it easy. But I know she loves me. It’s all so conflicting.