Writing

Still up.

I feel the weight

That the dark puts on me.

I try to drown it with lamp light:

Gets worse.

I've been thinking, 

that my little brother- 

is just an illusion created by my mind. 

And it's because 

I don't get how somebody, 

like him, 

so sweet, 

You,

my mirror,

my other half,

my dark side.

We look the same.

But in no way are we alike.

We're like two halves, 

of the same coin.

But you-

are my worst regret.

Watching 

the flat white clouds 

melt onto the field. The  

subdued earth suffocates—my breath

quickens. 

Peace can only be achieved if the power of love overrules the love of power.

How do I know that this will ever be enough? I can’t picture myself settling.