Desire's Deseption

Chapter 2

Thus the morning begins, yesterday was a little heated, but today I'm sure things will be better. I talked to Turk when mom went to work. It's Friday so we had the house to ourselves as usual on the weekend. It does get kind of lonely. I woke and made breakfast for me and Turk. I made pancakes and sausage. It was about 11:00 a.m. I was sitting on the couch waiting for Turk to wake up. He never slept this late. I went upstairs to check on him. I knocked on the door about 3 times before I went inside. Turk had made up his bed and was sitting at his Dresser writing something. He didn't seem to notice me when I came inside.

"Turk, What are you doing" He jumped at the sound of my voice

"I'm working on my Essay for class"

"I made breakfast downstairs, Pancakes and Sausage"

"I don't feel like eating right now"

"What kind of Essay are you writing?"

"None of your business, it's my English homework that's all you need to know"

I walked over to his dresser; He quickly turned the paper over. "Stop!" He screamed and balled up the paper. I kept trying to reach for the paper. But not even for the love of all that is good would he let me see the paper. It had me wondering why. "Why won't you let me see the paper!"

"It's none of your business"

"Turk, if it's just for class then why won't you let me read it?"

"Well because you don't need to."

"I'm calling mom," I said walking towards the door

"No stop, please don't"

"Then let me see the paper"

Turk looked at me with a flippant look on his face, He picked up the balled up piece of paper, unballed it and handed it to me. He left the room went down stairs, and if I know him well enough, he's probable grabbing a stack of pancakes, and about 3 pieces of sausage, yet drowned in syrup. I looked at the note; it was a poem he wrote that read:

He doesn't know,

He might never will,

But time is wasting,

I'll be empty until,

Someone stands up,

And moves the hour hand back,

And the best of luck,

Getting my heart back on track.

The beat like the tick,

grows slower and slower.

The hours for how long I live,

Are yet to be over.

When may I live my own life?

I only have one wish,

So when the clock strikes midnight,

I'll have something to die with.

Daylight is wasting,

I'm running out of time,

But how do I know?

How long is a lifetime?

I smiled at my brother's words. But why would he try to hide something like this? I thought to myself. But then I remembered all those movies about the thugs being picked up on because of their intelligence. It was because they're intelligence made them look soft. When in reality the truth is, it doesn't matter. So I decided to go talk to Turk, I walked downstairs and sure enough he was sitting on the couch with a plate full of pancakes and sausage drowned in syrup. He looked up to me and looked at the T.V. Pretending to be distracted by it. I sat down beside; I put the poem on the table, and stared at him until he said something.