Mystery Poem by Chosen Reject

While Cobain's death is still a mystery
Leaving mists and specks to be figured out
Leaving his passion, his life behind
Leaving me a gift that I've held on for sometime

The same one that made me what I am
The same one that taught me how to define
The same one that left space for maturity
And trees of creativity in me

As morbid as I may seem
As funny as I might be pictured as
As whatever I'm not as a person
Is where my weakness lies
Is where they still linger
A place where I sit and cry
Is where I ponder about life
Thinking about what it had, has and will offer me...

I'm still waiting for days' glow
Should plough the thoughts that I sow
Can't have every bell and whistle to offer
Can't think of another line to whisper...