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Shackles of the world,
Hold you by the ankles.
You started so strong,
Until those skeletal fingers,
Wrapped themselves around you.
Tripped up,
Like laces tied.
You fall upon your face.
The claws of the creature start to attack.
Alone, broken, pain.
No one to help.
You decide to give up.
Look at you now,
Struggling, hurting,
in the hospital.
Can you see that you aren’t alone?
You never were.
Tried to be,
but some people won’t be pushed away.
You need change.
Need to fly right.
Get right with your God,
Because you might not make it out.
But until that happens,
I am here.

I wrote this on the morning of the fourth, as I sat next to the hospital bed of my father’s brother whom I’ve been taking care of for the last few years. He died shortly before 7 pm on January 4 2014.
I’ll spare you the details. We’ll just say that it was a rough death. I don’t have it in me to go over the whole story at the moment, (perhaps later) but I will say this; No other family was there. My ex wife came so I didn’t have to deal with this all alone. And I am very thankful for that.
He’s no longer in pain, and that’s good… but he’s left a hole in my life. Its never easy to lose someone, but we have to remember that life does go on… and time helps heal.
Have a good day everyone, and don’t forget to tell your loved ones how much you care… You might not get another chance.

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Are you ok?
One phrase,
That’s all it took.
And all the carefully constructed facades came crashing down.
All the false smiles disappeared.
And all that was left was a broken man.
A man tired of fighting,
Tired of getting nowhere,
Tired of it all.
The demons screamed,
“Loser,
Worthless,
Good for nothing”
He arrived home,
To his lonely bed,
And lay down.
Starring at the ceiling
Trying to sleep he wondered.
What do i do?
Because in truth,
He no longer knew.

  I had decided to take the day off from the gym today, but changed my mind when I woke up. It was a beautiful, dark morning. The birds weren’t even awake yet. The great thing about the gym on Saturdays is that they don’t open until six a.m… So I get to sleep in a bit. I arrived about 10 minutes before they opened and was standing outside with some other early morning health freaks. Here we all were standing there, anticipating our early morning workout at 5:50a.m. on a Saturday, while many people were at home in their cozy beds. You could feel the energy emanating from the group. It was fantastic.
  I have always found something invigorating about working out when it’s usually time to be asleep. When I first started working out originally in 2006, I would rise at four a.m. because I was embarrassed about how I looked, and didn’t want others seeing me. After awhile I started to enjoy the solitude and feeling of doing something healthy at an hour where even most healthy people aren’t awake. In fact, I started to feel a bit smug. Not that I would brag about it, but internally I was getting a bit cocky.
  After a time, I started having to close where I worked, and getting home around 11p.m. was just not going to work for a four a.m. wake up plan. So I started running around 11ish when i got home. I am sitting here this morning, recollecting a specific run of mine late one night.
  It was 11:30p.m. on May 16, 2006. My father had succumbed to terminal brain cancer in February. I was still grieving. I had wanted him to live… Obviously. I thought about him often, as I still do. This was the eve of my birthday. In 45 minutes, I would be 26.
  I stepped out into the crisp evening air. I was exited about my birthday. It’s the one day a year, where it’s all about me. A few cars passed on the lonely, dark streets I was running, but not many.
I checked my watch. 11:40. Only 20 minutes I thought to myself with a smile. I pushed a little harder.
  Watch check, 11:43.  A dog was barking in the distance. And the house I was passing had someone in the kitchen window, doing dishes. She looked up and smiled. I smiled back.
  Watch check, 11:45. “Jeeze,” I thought, “I have too stop checking my watch.”  I saw a homeless man sleeping in the park I was now passing. I rounded the corner to home and was on the final stretch towards home. This was the point where I would usually sprint, and then take a small five minute walk up the street and back for a cool down.
  Watch check, 12:06… I stopped dead in my tracks. It was my birthday. 26 years ago today, my father held me in his arms for the first time. He stopped partying, stopped drugs, and started working harder because of me. It was my birthday. 26 years ago today, I opened my eyes to see my biggest hero in my entire life.
  Standing there in the middle of the road, I realized that it was my birthday. No bells or chimes went off. The stars didn’t magically spell my name. The world was asleep around me. Nothing had changed. Everything was just as it had been five minutes before. I was finishing a run, my wife and kids were still asleep, my father was still dead, and I was still greaving. I sat down upon the curb and covered my face as I broke into tears. The cold concrete soothed my overheated body as I lay back and stared skyward through tear stained eyes. It was my birthday, and today would be the first one that my father didn’t call and sing me happy birthday.
  I finished my crybaby session, and slowly jogged up the street. I went inside and quietly got undressed for a shower. Looking at my reflection in the mirror I realized something. My father wasn’t gone. He was in the mirror staring back at me. He was in my face, my hands, my heart and soul. He would always be with me… even if he couldn’t call and sing to me on my birthday.
  A tear fell from my eye as I stepped into the shower smiling… It was my birthday.

R.I.P.  Harold Wayne “Behr” Rupe
   Taken too soon, I love you poppa bear.

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Smoke filled the air,
it was hard to breathe.
How many people,
just wanted to leave?
Stairwells collapsed,
panic in the air.
Reaching into the haze,
they found a hand there.
A glimmer of hope,
in a war torn scene.
Wishing and praying,
it was all a dream.
I stared at the telly,
drowning in tears.
My wife’s side of the family,
had lived there for years.
No way to get there,
no calls going through.
At a complete loss,
nothing to do.
I think of the heros,
that saved lives that day.
And wish to thank them,
in my own special way.
I still grieve,
for the ones who were left.
I know in my heart,
everyone tried their best.
To the families torn apart,
as a result of this mess.
You will see them again,
When you lay down to rest.

As i get older, stuff like this affects me more. I didn’t lose anyone on that fateful day, my losses came in the war afterword. I was watching the news this morning, and almost completely broke down. Why there is so much senseless death and violence, i will never understand.
If i were to die today, I would want you all to know how much it means to me that my words are read. Thank you all for taking the time to read and respond to my writes… But for now, maybe you should go tell someone you love just how much they mean to you. There isn’t always a tomorrow. Love you guys. *hugs*

Ruination of a soul.
Not to kill a man,
But to break him.
To make the spark,
Leave his eyes.
Does it make you smile?
It must feel good,
But i wouldn’t know.
I’d rather be on the receiving end,
Than ever make you feel like that.
Perhaps that’s why I smile…
So you might not know…
I’m broken.

Her fingers trace his face with love,
remembering every detail of their lives together.
The color of his beautiful eyes,
resonates within her mind.
“Please don’t go” she pleads,
with every fiber of her being.
He remains silent.
She takes his hand in hers,
and touches it to her face the way he used to, when they were young.
Such a wonderful life they had,
and so many more years they had planned.
But it was not to be.
He still maintains his silence.
She softly places her lips to his, and whispers, “I will always love you”
Then she closes the casket,
And walks away.