It's falling to pieces because we've been abandoned.
In hiding, in secret, we're no longer who we found ourselves to be.
Rhinestones and glitter are falling around us as our dreams have died,
our childhoods, our imaginations, our innocence.
The tides came in and brought us music and when they receded,
the corpses left behind tore holes in our hearts.
We would have been devoted to that merriment forever,
and perhaps we still are. Maybe it is shock that makes us feel dead,
and we'll rise from the ashes of the alien trenches
that are likened to what we remember as music.
It hasn't all been a tragic mistake.
Suit up in red leather and sunglasses,
make sure you haven't scabbed over irreversibly.
As we bury our king, don't also let those songs in our souls fade.
Sing on, World, sing on.
A faint echo of a time we loved to hate a person,
a person we used to love to love,
the echo will fade and the memories will become more beautiful
that they might have been.

7.11.2009

07/11/2009

Author's Note: okay, yes, I suppose it is pretty obvious what this one is about.

Posted on 07/11/2009
Copyright © 2024 Brian Fuchs