I am going to share a poem I wrote about my brother a few years ago. I was struggling with seeing him everywhere and grieving him. I was concerned about why his life ended the way it did, was there more to why he did what he did. So after a few weeks of feeling haunted and tortured in a way, I finally wrote a poem and felt completely released. I didn't feel the pain anymore. This was the poem. Faces of Strangers The face of a stranger Haunts me, It’s my brother Looking distant, Drunk with regret, melancholy, sorrow Though we couldn’t know, What was behind The constant blindness, I wonder now... Why were you running? Now, the face of a stranger, Haunts me, It’s you, It’s the same distant sorrow Painted on your face Trying to forget, Etched in the lines of your features, In the tiny, wrinkles next to your Light, blue eyes. I don’t know why, Strangers' faces haunt me - So much, lately. I wish I could see your face, Ask you, why? But, I can’t. And, I never can. Maybe that’s what haunts me, Occupies my thoughts, When faces of strangers Haunt me, It is their likeness, And, their foreignness, That remind me, I can’t ask. And, I never can.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76HuH7Pm69k