My name is Lukas.
I'm the latest one to be affected by the floods.
Death approaches like a freight train,
and my feet are glued to the tracks.
What is there to live for anymore?
The first to go was my little brother,
precious and lovable, even with his attitude.
I remember learning that he was my brother.
Beneath my emotionless stare,
a warmth spread through me like
a ray of sunshine on a winter day.
And since then, he was the light of my life,
one of the things that kept me going.
But then he slipped off without a murmur.
Then my true love started to weaken,
his tall, muscled stature thinning and wasting away.
His flamboyant hair growing limp and weak.
His final words were for me.
I cried when we buried him.
And now another friend of mine has departed.
He understood my silence,
as he lived it too.
He cared for the rest of us like a father,
but when he died, he couldn't recognize us anymore.
What is there to live for anymore?
My name is Lukas.
I've given up.