Poetry

Till The Grave

Written by Jacob Ibrag

I’d follow you to the grave. Was I naive? Probably. You called

me when the sun revealed itself. “Calm down, tell me what

happened.” Words were swallowing each other, nothing made

any sense. It was clear, you did something. Didn’t want to tell me

though. The feds wanted you. You needed my help. “Of course.”

Would I eat these words later? Half of your hair was missing and

your shirt was stained red. “Is that your blood?” You nodded no.

The car was clearly stolen. If I got in, there was no going back.

I would be an accessory to your plight. When we were kids,

I’d always be the one that got into trouble. You’d always have

my back, no matter what. It would get bad and there you were at

the end of the tunnel, my light in the darkness. I had to do this,

no matter where this would all end up. We are brothers. “Till the

grave, lets ride.” Nothing you said made any sense, except the guy

that was locked up in your trunk. “Who’s back there?” Nothing,

you wouldn’t tell me. An hour went by and we finally made

a stop. At this point, I thought he was crazy. “Strip club?” We

walked to the trunk, I was afraid to see what you did. Why were

we here? My body was soaked in a pool of sweat and blood from

the passenger side seat. The trunk opened up and, “Dad?” Strippers

started coming out of the club with a sign that read, “Life

officially over tomorrow.” This was a bachelor party.

This was my bachelor party.

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