Part three

All you who are in love Aye and cannot it remove I pity the pain that you endure for experiences let me know that your heart is filled with woe it's a woe that no mortal can cure.

Sleep and death are just the same from both I can return I emerge from sleeping just by waking and from death I return with words. - Golden Tongue: The poems of Steven Slaughter.

Live once, die twice.

I wake up to the murky smell of the hospital room. It smelled of death and stale bread. In the hospital room was a mourning widower crying over a dead body .I walked around the room until I found a curtain and pulled it open to see the new patient. I saw my father's shot and mangled body .He was dead. Tim was sitting on our mother's bed. Her face was cold and gray. We sat down and cried for not only our dead parents but for anyone who has loved and lost.

The funeral home was empty except for Tim and me. The caskets contained our parent's dead bodies. I had already given my eulogy and said my prayers. Tim and I were then bounced into foster parent's house for three years. On my eighteenth birthday, I quickly signed the adoption paper for Tim. That was one week ago. I am now Tim's guardian for the next five years. Tim and I now live in Pennsylvania currently but change is necessary so who knows where we'll finally settle. I surely don't.