Dylan

Dylan
September 11, 1981 - April 20, 1999

Souls adrift, they float along the morning’s haze
Of death choked breaths amid the blood and pain of mind and body
In the wreckage of shrapnel
Made of broken glass and broken dreams
Beyond repair the absence of the mind
And spirits who once embodied faces like our own
Now covered with blood beyond recognition
Lost identity with lost hope
Burning in the festered hatred
Running through his icy veins
That once held peace
Before his heart was hardened
And his psyche hollowed out and left to ruin.

Souls adrift, he floats along the morning’s haze
Of moments lost in time’s abyss
When someone could have loved him
Could have saved him from the edge
The deeper depth of night
The spider web of nightmares that captivates his breath
Amid the blood of hemorrhaged sanity.

Like the dawn
They rise above the wreckage of shrapnel
Made of broken glass and broken dreams
Beyond repair
Lost identity with lost hope
Burning in the festered hatred
Running through his icy veins—
They once held peace
Before his heart was hardened
And his psyche hollowed out and left to ruin
Amid the blood of hemorrhaged sanity.