The first thing is Pain, and the second is Hunger,
The third is the feeling of Time rent asunder,
Things long since lost echo back in my head,
Cellophane faces, and things that were said.
“Don’t go…love you…careful…take care…”
Whispers and ghosts flicker by on the air.
I’d think myself mad, if thinking I choose,
But one cannot go mad with no mind left to lose.
The Hunger calls now, and its pull is extreme,
Their shrieks meld together into one endless scream.
The echoes of Time become louder yet,
The Pain makes it certain I never forget.
Engraved on each cell, the death that I bring,
I hear its sad laughter, and feel its glad sting.
It is ageless, this Hunger, and it must be fed,
It will never be sated till my spirit has fled.
But not even then will the world be set free,
For it moves even now, as the sap through a tree.
It wriggles and squirms inside of the brain,
Till the Pain and the Hunger begin once again.
And once more, a form shuffles into the night,
The Child is reborn, and his name is Blight!
One out of six, you will always be missed,
And the hole that you left never filled.
My brother, my friend, and yet at the end,
They stole you, and murdered, and killed.
To cause so much pain, for so paltry a gain,
How can anyone think that was right?
We’ll never know, with no camera to show,
And the culprits lost in the night.
Your room is a shrine, but also a tomb,
Preserving your spirit within,
Inviolate, closed, but everyone knows,
You’ll never more step out again.
Never more tease, or argue, or please,
Your sarcastic tongue laid to rest,
Along with your smile, and your eyes full of guile,
And your loving heart…that was the best.
We miss you, John. Wait for us, we’ll catch up soon!