The Bridge and the Sky

Time has not forgotten you brother,

Your brothers and best friends,

tell your story to others;

You are legend,

remembered and loved

to forever live on.

 

The night you stood on that bridge

did you look death in the eye?

As you fell,

Did you learn to fly?

 

I know what we’ve all been told,

but why do I still wonder why?

The truth is layered between

the bridge and the sky.

 

The stars and moon ,

have heard my mournful cry;

Why Justin? Why?

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The Shadow

You hardly survived as you

slipped through the black hole,

and made it to the other side,

but it wasn’t what you thought it was going to be.

 

No escape – just more empty black space,

further fragmenting your mentality –

You’re splitting in half again,

while everything around you merges together

and draws in close – then closer.

 

It’s getting harder to think straight,

I’ve not been sleeping well.

It’s getting harder to tell the difference

between what is in my head – and what’s actually happening;

What’s real and what I’m just imagining.

 

The shadows are moving and I’m not dreaming,

I think I’ve broken my mind and hallucinating;

The voices converse about the things

I’ve been avoiding – every thing is crashing in

and I feel like the whole universe is watching….

The Hero

I can see so vividly the hero in me,

living well in the future; the future is static.

A reflection of the past becoming present,

triggers my ability to out think probability.

 

My hand is on the window, everyone’s watching me

Just got to clear my mind, and I’ll pass through,

then they will finally see me, the way I see myself

I will lift into the sky – secrete identity revealed.

 

I’ll no longer be afraid, I’ll finally tell the truth.

I’ll round up my demons, make amends for setting them free.

I’ll finally be what I’ve always wanted to be,

just as soon as I get up to turn off the t.v!

 

I will become the prophesy and expose the irony.

Hello broken society trying to tell me I’m living in a fantasy!

I can harness the energy of hatred and turn it into electricity

that fuels me through the darkness procrastination

has enveloped me in.

Ghost Train

In my mind I’ve laid down tracks;

I’ve built up trains of thought.

At a snails pace they crawl along,

gradually picking up speed:

Now all my trains are racing,

racing towards some grandiose climax.

 

Through the window, the world is a blur,

Nothing feels real anymore,

my family and friends are just neat ideas.

My mind is starting to create its own world

to escape into.

 

I know  I’m heading for a horrible collision;

Stoke the engine! Faster, faster!

I must see this path through to the end!

 

I must have my  unique undoing!

Then, and only then,

will I  finally tear away the layers of my mask,

unravel myself from the mummy cloth,

and choose to live again.