The Fourth

It's gone,

the thickness in the air,

the sorrow hanging over our heads,

have dissipated.

Yet,

I can't help but feel,

even with a boy at the sink,

a brother in his room,

and a mother at the desktop,

the grief.

Like they were brainwashed,

the three still have

went on with life,

forgetting the lost two.

I have not an ounce of remorse,

for asking, screaming, at them

of why,

Why had they forgotten?

Why are they such cowards?

Why can't they see the truth?

In the end,

I'm still alone.

The warmth,

the smell,

the taste,

of family

no longer,

reaches my senses.

Grief once took them,

now it holds me in its grasp.

Unable to escape,

I try to find an outlet.

And this is what grief,

has brought unto me.