How shall I start? How shall explain my troubles, but I warned him, but he didn't listen.

I and my brother Patrick grew up in South London. We both went to Lewisham College. Patrick, wanted to be popular, he walked with the gangsters of the college, does ones who are ready to destroy their lives, hanging around the corridor smoking their lives away. Patrick began to receive suspension letters, his name regularly appeared in the black book of the college. But he didn't care, he thought doing this will create fear in the hearts of his colleagues, he was known as one of the notorious boys in the college, and I tried speaking to him, but kept telling me it was his life. Some times he does not go to classes, the school authority even threatened to kick him out of the college if continues with his unnecessary absence form college. My parents were even fined by the school when he and his friends decided vandalised the schools property. This continued and continued.

One day, one of his friends was kidnapped by some boys, this boy was killed and his body was dumped by the side road. When his parents found out, they were terrified, the news got to the college, and the principal of the college asked our tutors to advice all their students to stay in door must of the time, because the society has been proved un safe. But Patrick and his friends decided to have a fight with these boys. It was bloody, people lost their lives, and gun shots every where, knives flying in the sky. Every night, Patrick comes home with blood on his shirt, even the police could not stop them; the streets were as quite as the night, no bird dears to fly. Again I spoke to Patrick, but he told me off.

One Saturday afternoon, Patrick stepped out of the house, putting his hood on, suddenly; I heard three gun shots, followed by the screeching of tyres. Then Patrick shouted I ran outside, to my shock, my brother was lying down socked with his own blood, immediately I called 999, the ambulance came as they could. They rushed him to the emergency ward, after trying to remove the bullets from his body, he gave up the ghost. I cried; know I have to live with fact that I will never see my brother again. But I warned him, he never listened, know he is no more.

Brethren, let us learn from the tragic story of my brother, life is a gift giving to us by our creator, therefore it is not ours, for we don't know what tomorrow holds for use, who knows, may be if my brother had survived, he would have become a preacher, it will remain a mystery, no one knows when or how they will die, therefore we must live our lives like it today is the last day, who knows, it might be.

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