I touch the soft, battered
photograph of me, you, and
him
of you and the man you loved
and me, your five year old niece
you were completely and honestly
my best friend
but a cruel world
took you away

i now laugh in the face of death
as if it is noting but a mere
dream
i believe i still do not
understand the problems with being so
closed-off

i love you, my sweet uncle mike
those pills that took you
were filled with a sweet medicine
a nice mixture of hate and love
of dreams and reality

but, in the end, they still took you away
they still killed my perfect
artistic and loving
uncle mike