If one final piece of me

shall be immortalized,

let it be these words.

As ash comes raining down,

the screams of terror and agony

piercing the dark sky like bullets,

I look around at the home I'd made,

the life I had lived.

My pens and paper are strewn

carelessly throughout the workshop.

A plate of olives sits at my desk,

where I had only minutes ago-

God, had it only been minutes?-

been sitting, writing my newest work.

Ironically, it was about

the ultimate destruction of mankind.

None of this matters, though.

Not the tools, or the fruit.

All that matters

is the world outside.

My friends, family,

all being buried by the ash.

I look out my window,

and watch the dark death

fall from the torn skies.

Off in the distance,

Vesuvius roars like a beast,

waiting to claim more victims.

I look up as something hits the roof,

which instantly begins to burn.

Within minutes, the whole house

is steadily burning.

I look up, and a scream

catches in my throat.

Just outside the window,

bodies.

Not dead, but buried,

covered and immortalized

in the piling ash.

Their cold, hollow,

lifeless eyes beg

for a second chance at life.

Their mouths are opened,

frozen in screams of anguish.

Looking at those bodies,

I take a deep breath.

The ash piles higher and higher,

blanketing the city,

and I know that soon,

it shall take me under.

So, paper in hand,

I step out

into the burial grounds

of Pompeii.

In the gardens of Hell,

filled with wilting roses

and fields of asphodel,

laid a broken butterfly,

it’s wings torn.

I picked it up, gently,

and held it close,

admiring it's broken beauty.

I took the butterfly,

and walked with it through the castle,

past shattered vases painted silver

and destroyed windows

of magnificent stained glass.

We exited the castle,

and I looked up at the rain-filled sky,

listened to the symphony of damned souls.

I looked out at the darkened,

ash-covered fields with a smile.

The butterfly lifted it's ruined wings.

I held out my hands,

and it took off, slowly but steadily.

I followed it, hiking up the skirt

of my slightly shredded dress,

until it led me to you.

You were seated under a tree,

completely barren of leaves.

Your clothes were torn as mine.

A frown possessed your lips,

and a tear grazed your cheek

as you looked out at the lost horizon.

We sat together-

you, I, and the butterfly,

enjoying the beauty

of our broken world.

Sadness wells up in my heart,

slipping through the cracks.

My chest and throat tighten.

It feels like I'm drowning,

but there's no water in sight.

I can't breathe, or speak.

I know the words,

but they get pushed away,

pushed further and further away.

I keep pushing my friends,

my family

further and further away.

All I want is for someone to hold me close,

a shoulder to cry on.

I want someone to look me in the eye,

and say, "I know you're hurting."

"I know you feel sad."

"It's okay to be sad."

"It's okay to cry!"

I look around,

but no one is there,

and the silence is heart-breaking.

Sinking to my knees in defeat,

I whisper,

"I know I'm hurting."

"I know I feel sad."

"It's okay to be sad,

but it's not okay to cry."

A mistress of words,

Closed off and cold-hearted.

The tales she weaved

Told of anger and sadness,

Deep from the center

Of her broken, twisted being.

One day,

She met another.

A mirror image of herself.

A word master.

She moved to speak,

But found herself to be silenced.

Her words hung in the air,

And she sank to her knees,

Powerless.

He took her hand,

Pulling her from the ground.

The two stood there,

The equilibrium of their power

Leaving them in a standstill,

Trapped in a world

All of their own making.

And none could bear witness

To the silencing of the word masters.

I am the master of day,

And also of night.

The controller of Darkness,

And the creator of light.

I know your weaknesses,

As well as my own.

I am the all-knowing,

As well as the unknown.

I will dig into your soul,

Learn all of your secrets.

I will control your mind,

My own dark allegiance.

I will corrupt your light

With my dark.

I will steal your power,

Diminish your spark.

With sword in hand,

You will fall to my greatness.

My stories will be told,

My legends recreated.

I will get inside your head,

And drive you insane.

I am a writer,

And this is my game.

Long ago,

Two kingdoms at war.

The kingdom of the blazing sun-

Bright, warm, powerful.

The kingdom of the shining moon-

Cold, beautiful, strong.

After all the fighting was done,

The two sides made a truce

To rule by each other's side.

Sun and Moon, working as one.

The sun would rule the day,

The moon the night.

However, after many years of peace,

The moon grew tired.

And so, one day,

They overthrew the

Kingdom of the sun.

Their victory was short-lived.

The people of the sun,

Stronger than those of the moon,

Managed to take back their kingdom.

This uprising of the moon

Is reenacted every few years.

We call it...

The eclipse.

In the end...

I still don't have the words to say.

A legend has fallen.

A true warrior of the broken,

The dying, the Damned.

May he rest peacefully.

The sad thing is,

The war continues.

It will continue after

All of us are gone.

For we are the bandages,

Holding together a broken world.

We can't hold it together forever.

We will remember

Our friend, our savior.

He wasn't just a man,

A name, a person.

He was a soldier.

He understood

How the world truly works.

The good fight

Is also the dying fight.

Those who fight this war,

Are simply destined to fall.

Whether by their hands...

Our our own.

It is our fate, and

We can't change it.

We will remember the name

Chester Bennington.

Fate found its way to his heart,

A heart that could bear

The weight of worlds,

A heart that was strong,

But couldn't be strong anymore.

A heart

That belonged to a hero.

You always say

"You're getting mad over something

So stupid."

If I thought it was stupid,

Why would I be getting mad about it?!

Why would I be

Wasting my time and energy

Fighting for it?!

I don't like my brothers

Listening to my music.

Why is that stupid?!

My music has meaning.

It means something to me!

It makes me happy when

I'm sad, destructive.

They only like it because

It "sounds cool"!

And they act like

Their such good musicians.

No, they're not!

I'm the musician in the family.

That's my thing,

What makes me special!

I get angry when they

Ask to use the computer.

Because they use it all the time!

That's all they do,

All day every day!

Play the dumb computer.

When I use it,

I'm writing!

I'm doing important things.

I hardly play it anymore!

I hate being your maid!

You just sit around all day,

And you hardly talk to me,

Unless you need something.

"Can you get my bag for me?"

"Can you go grab the mail?"

"Can you make me a sandwich?"

The boys are right next to you,

But you drag me out of my room,

No matter what I'm doing,

To do something

You or any of them could do.

You want something?

Do it yourself?!

Admit it!

I'm just a maid,

A ghost,

Nothing to you!

You don't care what I think!

You just think it's

A bunch of stupid things.

Well those stupid things...

They make me me.

So, get over it!

Roses are red,

My heart is dead,

My body is laid to rest.

I made up my mind,

It was my time,

just know I tried my best.

This world is dying,

angels are crying,

And day is forever night.

I took up a knife,

And ended my life

But was it really right?

Shadows can't be made without a little light,

Bright stars can only shine at night.

Darkness is the key.

So if dark and light are one,

And problems are none,

Maybe it's just me.

Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe I don't belong.

Maybe all I've known is a lie.

Roses are red,

Violets are dead,

And now so am I.

If I live in a world where

You become what you think about...

I am world hunger.

I am global warming.

I am depression.

I am suicide.

I am War.

I am famine.

I am lost love.

I am death.

I am Sadness.

I am pain.

If we live in a world where

You become what you think about.

I am life.

I am happiness.

I am fun.

I am personal improvement.

I am love

I am world peace.

I am laughter.

I am Nature.

I am beauty.

I am friendship.

Maybe if I

Stopped thinking negatively,

The world would be

A better place.