Pig

Like a pig, you lay in a bed of pills and needles. You’re not the first. How does it feel to come second? You can’t be blamed. Another hand took the world from you. Your fault is easy to assume because we all thought that you were through.  Your legacy is not just found in the madness of thrashing instruments. No, a brave woman bore you a family. Now their tiny faces frown and hearts ache in your absence.
No one blames you, Pig; for rolling in your own filth. After all, is t not what it means to live? Every time, there’s a moment of silence when we play, a moment of silence.