You let your demons control you,

Let them overwhelm you.

They took you in the calm,

In the eye of the storm,

When you were vulnerable.

You left behind those important to you,

Those who looked up to you,

And those who wanted to be you.

I don't blame you.

 

Pain is nothing you can hide,

The pain was always in your eyes.

You traveled 61 rotations, headed to your 62nd.

Maybe you spent too much time,

Maybe we did not give you enough.

I know how the voices must have made you;

Must have paralyzed

Tramautized

then, Euthanized.

It is a bitter truth we must face-

That suicide must grace-

Those who we aspire.

 

Your memory will not be in vain,

I will try to live up to the name

That you so painstakingly created.

May I also have my march to the sea,

Bourdain; may your soul grace me.