All my Heroes Were Junkies

All my heroes were junkies, fuck ups and failures
Who cast life away, but I was told
They did so with a smile. And I believed it. Sure,

I did, and their stories easily took hold
For quite a bit of my life. The ghosts still linger
But by God it was so much worse. So sold

I was on the idea that when I learned a singer
I liked had killed himself I grew
A fascination for suicide. Put a finger

On how my youth went. You guessed it. I flew
From one sick fascination to another:
Suicide, the occult, the perverse. No one knew,

But see, the part thatís mostly a bother
Is that my heroesí presence grew in my brain
To the point where they werenít an other

But who I am. I donít mean to paint
A picture of the supernatural but that
I became my heroes but besides the vain

Trappings of fame or talent, what they had
They had, I was just a copycat.
Barely a presence in my own mind. Unlooked at.

Poetry by Sameen
Read 126 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2020-11-23 at 23:23

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Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
Your poem has been chosen to be featured on the home page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting on our poetry website!

josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Got to echo Larry. Well done Sameen. The theme and its evolution are superbly done while the structure is unassuming and elegant not overpowering al all. Brilliant!

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
This is first class, Sameen. With its skilled but idiosyncratic rhymes, this poem reminds me of Edgar Allen Poe's, and I consider that to be high praise.