Family is inseparable.
Even in times of hate.
When you look among the tree.
You’ll see the people who loved thee.

Its hard to forgive those who hate.
Those who suffer jealousy’s fate.

When I look upon my tree.
It is my sister who suffered,
Not me.
An angry fight that tore us apart.

A simple word sent mother back to start.
Tears of memories haunt her sleep.
The love of my sister is obsolete.
Not a call in several weeks.

Shes gone away for good I see.
Perhaps its better for my mom.
That all the stress is dead and gone.
Though I fear in times of love.

Her heart is empty from her child’s gun.
I gaze into the family tree.
I miss her, I’m sure she misses me
If only she would tell our mom.

That she loves her.
And wants to come home.
But I fear pride now holds her back.
The words she said cling to her sack.

I wish just once the devil would ease.
And allow our family to have some peace.

This peace of poetry,
Weakly wrote.
Is a plea for peace.
I know she’ll read it.

In time she’ll see.
That I miss her.
And I know she misses me.