The piano, guitars and drums-
the music itself seems orphaned now.
Only your signature metal scream remains.
A remainder of your soul,
and a reminder of our loss,
Bittersweet- through a million hollow hearts.
Asking us- ‘Who cares, if one more light goes out in the sky of a million stars?’
And we cry, we scream & we break as we reply-
But it’s already too late…
You were not a single light in the sky, you were the sun itself.
I’d put my headphones on and the truth used to dawn upon me.
Thank you for being the voice of everything I felt, but couldn’t express.
Fire- trapped within us we were, suffocating bodies of flesh.
Consuming ourselves alive- for we never knew how to say- all that needed to be said.
You did that for us.
You stood up for us.
Making sure we never felt alone.
Cause you knew, what it meant to be stifled, to be afraid.
You knew, how it felt to live alone with the voices inside your head; with that all consuming darkness.
And you knew how to continue to shine through.
And you taught us that secret, too.
And more than the music, we loved you for that.
And then one day, with you consoling us through our headphones, the news came-
CHESTER BENNINGTON DEAD.
And we were ashamed, that we only knew how to be consoled.
That I only knew, how to take; but not to give.
That I only knew, how to stay lost in the echoes of my darkness and be ignorant of all the other dark places in the world.
I was ashamed of my hypocrisy.
I was ashamed of my blindness.
And life had never felt more silent to before.
Since then there’s been a storm raging on…
The anger and betrayal blared through my headphones for days.
And as time passed by, I kept discovering new bottoms within myself.
I kept finding new pain to relate to in your songs.
But I promised, I’d never disappoint you again.
And that promise taught me how to walk alone with my darkness.
And truth be told?
You did not die.
It was us the millions that died a little bit inside;
And probably our best parts.
The parts with light written on them.
You did not die that day.
You’ll forever live in us listeners’ hearts and only rest with our final songs.
And I assure you; through hell, we intend to sing.
We intend to sing, as if there’s a draught of bad singing on the earth.
Even with the pain crawling beneath our skins,
and numbness clawing our hearts from listening to your screams for hours on a loop-
We intend to continue.
Cause we really did, Chester, we really cared.
It was just that we were a bit late in saying it.
We always assumed you knew…
Dedicated to Chester Bennington
(March 20, 1976 – July 20, 2017)