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.