I still find myself thinking back to 1998 -
my brother died, my father cried, my stomach ached.
I still find myself thinking back to 1995 -
my brother lived, my brother laughed, he kept me warm at night.

Empty eyees and willful wrists and jeans with holes at the knees
Screaming voices making promises that our backsides couldn't keep
Scarred skin and broken noses, bruises gracing every inch
Between brothers, blood kept pouring from our fists
and hearts.

I remember he was older but most times too afraid to speak
I had to hold his hand behind his back when he held his graduation speech
He was captain of the football team and he led the boys quite well -
it was only when he got home, then he'd make my bottom lip swell.

Vacant words and stone-hard stares abd squared jaws with a few loose teeth
Hot-cold hearts beating loud in tact, a rhythm like a war drum
Between brothers, blood kept pouring from our hearts.

I still find myself thinking back to 1995 -
my older brother, my best friend, who kept me warm at night,
he'd beat me up once a week but yelled he loved me everyday,
I believed every single word that he shouted in my face.

Between brothers, blood kept pouring from our fists and hearts.
Between us, hate kept flooding from our eyes and scars.
All the tears, we shed them together, over you and me.

1998 was a rough year.