On a cold January morning
I ran through your front door
Expecting your joyful presence.
I heard a murmur of an unfamiliar
Somber tone filling the house.
When I went to ask my mum what was wrong
She said you were fine and left.
Sensing the unusual presence
I dashed to your room,
Just as a coon hound races towards his prey.
I was going to hunt down the monster causing your melancholy.
But when I reached the gates of your room
I didn’t see you.
I saw a corpse.
It was as if the happiness just up and left.
As if it decided to move and take permanent residence elsewhere.
But as you turned to see what was interrupting your solitary environment
You saw me and I saw a twinkle in your eye that reminded me of the person I knew before.
I was the one thing that could give you any joy.
Fast forward twelve years
And now I have no option but to hunt myself.
I have now become the source of the daily fears and nightmares.
I have become the monstrous prey that the kindergarten me tried to hunt.
The hunt has become an internal war.
If I save you, I die.
But, if I save myself you die.
The greatest gray area moral battle ever
Intensified by the sheer fact that,
At least, you were family.
Now every time I hear a dissenting scream
That involves my life choices
Should I become a samurai for you?
Should I take those dagger words
And carve the life out of my free will
And become nothing more than your minion.
Solely for the possibility to see a distant joyous smile reemerge
And cross your tragedy stricken face?
Or should I use your dissenting voice
As fuel. That fuels my selfish ambitions,
Just so I can look in the mirror.
Is it more important to help others survive?
Or, is it more important to feel pride.
Is it okay to lose yourself,
If, you help someone survive?
No matter how many times I think I have reached the answer
I feel as though I am being continuously hunted,