I'll admit,
I hunger for attention -
but I avoid the spotlight for fear of
embarrassment.
I crave acknowledgment,
a mild fame,
but then I shy away.

No one ever notices.

I used to never sleep,
for fear of danger sneaking in,
but now I sleep all too well,
for it is my only escape.

Something is stirring
at the edge of my mind -
my fingers, twitching.
I wait for the blurry thought
to come into focus,
to enlighten me with this new
burst
of creativity.

It still sits,
out of focus,
out of reach,
unwilling to give itself to me
so easily.

I pace back and forth
and nibble my nail,
poking and prodding
at the thought,
persistent.

Still it refuses,

Then my mind goes blank.

I love too much,
and I love too many -
my heart is pulled in several directions,
so that I don't know where it truly belongs.

A year ago, we lost a voice,
the voice of broken souls.
We lost a man
who gave his heart
again and again and again.
We lost a soul
who was fighting too many demons,
who refused to let darkness destroy him,

we lost a man who lost a war.

On July 20, we remember Chester Bennington,
whose voice has resonated with millions.
We hear the music and we cry,
we watch his antics and laugh with tears in our eyes.
We remember his kind heart and determination,
and carry that spirit in us with every warm gesture we make.

Rock in Peace, Chester. We miss you.

I let myself
s
i
n
k,

I contemplate
d
r
o
w
n
i
n
g,

but I know that there is
l i f e
and
l o v e
waiting above,
so back up I swim.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.