Of course, only Mikhail will understand the subtitle... I decided that yes, this is sad, but it's not Dark material. Wrote it at work last night, in what is almost a reply to Mike's 'Jessie's crying' (which is in Dark), though again... Only Mike would understand why. Yeesh, us two lead some complicated lives.

I'm just typing this up fresh, in desperate need of crashing into bed and SLEEPING, so please forgive any glaring errors, since my fingers don't wanna find the right spots on the keyboard.

On the Stage, In the Spotlight (The Eulogy of a Rock Star)

i.

If five empty rounds weren't good enough
to convince her that fate
wanted her to stay,
perhaps there was no room
in this world for her
anymore.

She must have revelled
in the drama,
in the held breath
before the final shot.

A life spent
on the stage, in the spotlight
was not meant to crawl away
when the fame was all gone.
This is what she knew more than anything else
as she payed the game of Russian Roulette
without the factor of chance.

Her life was one
of hollow needs,
overdone wants,
and denied loves.
She pushed anything out
that had been tender
and chased anything down
that offered more pain.

ii.

Perhaps there are lessons
to be learned from a failed
and desperate life.

Perhaps we all have to change a bit,
to take in the darkness
with the light.

Perhaps we should fight
the expectations
but not follow it through
to our own deaths.

Perhaps we should learn
to be courageous and open.
Learn just how little
separates danger and beauty.

Perhaps,
with a litte bit of work,
we can all turn this world around.

Because, of course,
the angels need to learn how to smile
and the predators
must learn how to weep.

We all must learn
to accept both ends
and not stand so stoically
as things fall apart on the inside.

iii.

Dear Kimberly,
you loved image more than life.
I was never able to bring myself
to feel surprised.
It was never the same for the rest,
though now
beyond all the shocked murmurs
of "she was so young,"
the words settle to something
more like "it figures."

When you took up the gun,
you fulfilled every expectation
they ever had.
Proved every cliche right.
The poor, misunderstood
punk grrl
and her poor, misunderstood
gunshot wound to the head.

You asked me to tell you
what celebrity
ever died of natural causes.
Now you tell me
what celebrity
ever died by 25.

I can't bring myself
to forget I loved you.
May you finally now
find your peace.