It began with a word,
But you kept writing.
You wrote for all those who needed even just a single word,
To raise them—
To remind them that just maybe they weren't alone,
And yet, you gave more.
You provided hope.
It began with a light—
That maybe life was worth living since you had everything you could ever wish for,
But it was only a dream, wasn't it?
Some things you cannot simply recover from.
Some things need time,
And you needed time.
No one stopped for a second to think that maybe you needed a light too—
That you needed someone to help you up out of your abyss,
Because the abyss on you feeds,
Until eventually, you become no more than that which feeds.
It ended with the news.
A hope that once outshone stars,
Faded, and was lost.
It ended with a simple word of one running tongue—
That Chester Bennington simply was no longer there.
It’s a scary feeling—
To know in your soul that you shouldn't be here,
And it ended with a mindset of a village shouting into you that maybe you needn't be here,
Or so they say.
However, the ones who know the truth speak your words that you gave through your lyrics.
How can someone move on when such a magnificent light suddenly flickered out?
How can we move on?
The truth is we can't,
And they laugh at us for becoming more inspired through every song.
They say, “who cares if one more light goes out in a sky of a million stars?”
“Who cares if someone's time runs out if a moment is all we are?”
And as many will contemplate the answer to these questions,
There is and will be no hesitation in mine,
Because no matter how true it is how insignificant each of us are,
No matter how many people ask that stupid, simple question, "who cares?,"
I will, Chester—
I always will.