Often I don’t of think of you.
But now, I have these questions:
Would you have been a boy?
Would you have been a girl?
Would you have been my guide?
Could you have saved me from myself?
Alas, I have only my life as evidence.
I took up your position, your mantle.
What did I do with it? Not much.
Perhaps having the same blood,
you would have been the same:
feckless, indecisive, weak, morose.
So the real question is this:
will we meet in heaven or in hell?
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