Poem -

The photo's

He is suspended , in a moment of time.
Caught in print , at his prime .
Never again would he look like this...
As self destruction plunged him downhill
culminating in the abyss.

So young , so vibrant.
An ideal poster for many a bedroom wall.
Who would know short years later
He'd be dead , a bloated corpse.
The pictures caught him at his best,
Everyone knows the rest...

-Though through his myth and music
He never died at all...