He is addicted and when it’s bad, it’s bad.
He makes me miss our memories we once had.
He used to be my hero, a hero who now has gone mad.
He is now occupied by a bleak and depressing habit.
But the help is in his reach, he just simply has to grab it.

Mom tries so hard to believe all of his lies.
She still sees her son behind those blood shot eyes.
But when I look at him, my eyes are only filled with despise.
He has hurt her, both physically and mentally.
It makes me so sad and angry, but it also helped strengthen me.

I could see his body and mind were drowning in decay.
But he wouldn’t even listen to a single word I had to say.
Those close around me tell me it’s going to be okay, just pray.
But what will it help him, if I pray to a God I don’t believe in?
Even if the almighty cared to listen, I don’t think he could cure him.

I was so ashamed of him, ashamed of what he had become.
But now I am no longer feeling ashamed, because I’m completely numb.
He abused his second chance, what’s done can’t be undone.
People make mistakes, that’s why when we fall we learn to pick ourselves up.
But instead of rising, he keeps on falling, landing in the same spot.

I still remember the days when I wanted him dead.
His whole existence annoyed me so much that I wanted to fled.
He doesn’t know how sad I was, how many silent tears I have shed.
I love him, but I fear his habit one day will him smother.
Because this is only the empty shell of what used to be my brother.