Who were the heroes that made you sing songs you never questioned?

Who were the artists that painted darkness in your mind

As you gazed in wonder

Inspired,

To tear yourself down?

Oh who were the lunatics 

The demons

Eaten alive by THEIR own demons

That set your soul afire

Believing you’d found prophets

Then later

Falling and burning 

Then possibly rising 

A survivor of your demons

Their demons

The lives burned by youthful heroes 

Not heroes

(Just flawed sick self destructive humans like us)

You saw 

(WE saw)

How wrong they were in preaching 

Teaching how to live

What desires took us to heaven 

Or hells of their inspiration

Our youthful desperation

How foolish we were to raise them up as heroes

How wise we were

To pull out of a tailspins falling

And stop trying to live as they lived

Teach as they taught

And die as they died

Living longer 

Healthier than the Heroes lived

Having found our own way

Blistered burned 

Yet ashen, 

Alive,

Smiling,

Singing our own  life affirming love song … without them. 

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