The night that I met you –
you seemed so familiar…
An innocent…so vulgar,
like The Children I’ve Known.
I felt so nostalgic –
with weeping confessions,
your bloodletting questions
made me feel less alone.
The Children are gone now –
although I still breathe,
I know I can’t leave,
though my memories cry.
I think I now know how –
reflection might save me,
allow me to break free,
as long as I don’t die.
I dream of escape from –
the nightmares that haunt me,
that grim reaper taunts me,
this war without end.
On a night when the darkness –
will fall and embrace me,
and time will erase me,
I won’t have lived longer
than at least this
Dear Friend.
Written by Jason Wright
April 11, 1997
For Ian