I was 16 years old

when I felt every drop of hope I had slipped from my fingertips

standing in your hospice room

every drop of that innocent feeling I had got taken from me

as soon as you pressed that morphine drip trigger

 

I was 16 years old

when I felt like I was trying to win a losing battle

and I was fighting a full rage war 

on cancer that spread through you like a forest fire

I've never felt such a pang of hatred for something I couldn't see

but that's the thing 

I could see it

I heard it in your voice

I saw in the living room where you stayed for five days

I saw the IV’s, the heart monitor, the feeding tube, the oxygen tank

I saw someone I didn't even recognize laying in that hospital bed

I felt it when I held your hand for the last time and as you told me “ take care of your brother for me”

I saw it when you looked at me and I knew you'd be leaving soon

 

I heard cancer in your voice when you said “love ya too” for the last time

 

I was 16 years old

when I felt what pain really was

watching you struggle to stay with me and your cold hands gripping mine

watching you struggle to breathe, 

I didn't think “why me?”

all I could think was 

“God, why did cancer take him away from me?”

 

I was 16 years old when I had my last Christmas with you

my last holiday morning where you said “good morning” with a cup of coffee in hand

wearing your superman pajamas and your green lantern shirt

I'd laugh and say “clash of the superheroes”

and what I failed to say was that you've always been my hero

 

I'm 17 years old now

its only been a few months

but the wounds are still fresh and open

I still suffocate in sadness when my eyes open to meet the morning

but I still find my feet hitting the floor

I wake up in the name of cancer 

and in the name of my father