I can never be perfect in your eyes.
I'll always miss the prize.
So I quit. 
I'll never live up to your perfect kids.
I'll never play the guitar like he once did. I'll never be as good at fitting in as he will. I'll never bring a perfect report card.
So I quit.
I can only be me.
The kid that learned to be rough around the edges to puncture anything that came too close .
I'll always be the kid who isn't book smart, but I'm a master at my skill; after all, after he died, you apparently lost all your kids.
So I quit. 
I can't bring him back and I can't morph into him.
So from now on, I'll follow my own will.
I smile at whatever makes me happy now.
And if one day you notice me, I will smile and welcome you.
I promise to not push you away,
I understand that we all grieve in our own way.

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