His guitar sings the world into rhythm
The crowds rock and roll with him
Guitar licks spin into somewhere he hides
For the real man always wore a disguise
And the wind cries Mary.
His mind and body with drugs are broken
Inside is but a token
Full of anger and distress
Trying to overplay the emptiness
And the wind cries.
Lots of mistakes, but one more ride
Couldn’t give it a rest even if he tried
Deep within all he ever knew
Felt as if the last string would come unscrewed
And the wind cries Jimi.
He’s left and the wind blows cold
Memories of a life are all that we hold.
On the outside he rocked on
But on the inside he was already gone.
And the wind whispers Jimi.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.