On a cold January morning

I ran through your front door

Expecting your joyful presence.

But instead,

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

I wonder.

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,

By myself.