Keep the Faith
Tell Me
Tell me I’m an angel.
Lie if you must, just tell me what I want to hear.
I know I’m probably closer to a demon but couldn’t I at least be a fallen angel? Another Lucifer to burn in hell. Or a Gabriel gone insane. Or maybe just an angel that’s gone astray.
Because I have, haven’t I?
That’s at least what I’m told. And it’s hard not to believe what so many persons tell you over and over and over again.
But couldn’t at least you tell me I’m an angel. Because I’ve had enough venom by now and I’m ill beyond belief. Nauseous even.
Am I really such a disappointment? Such a sad, tragic, wasted and spent excuse for a human being? Useless and thrown away, left in a corner to rot. A bad excuse for a saviour. But I’m not a hero, I’m just a man. How much do I have to bleed to prove that to you? How much pain must I go through? It has never seemed to be enough.
I guess you couldn’t care less.
Where’s your heart though? I’m just wondering. I’ve made mistakes, sure, but I’m only human. You demand so much of me. All of you. And I love you, I really do, but when you turn your backs on me and disown me you each take a little part of me away. A tiny piece. Each one of you. Each time. To love and not be loved in return wears me out. Oh, you have no idea how exhausting it is!
Think about it for a minute though. I’m still here, I’m still fighting. I’m still singing. What you do, it will never break me. No matter how many pieces you steal from me you’ll never take my heart.
Are you just jealous? Am I doing too well? Is that why you have to leave? Is that way you feel you have to turn away?
You can all leave me but to be alone doesn’t scare me. But if you stay, if you do, just know that I won’t hate you. I’m at least pretending that I’m above that but, just between you and me, the actual reason is that I need you all. I won’t forget, how could I ever? But I will find a way to forgive.
Because, after all, aren’t I the kind of human wreckage that you love?
Or aren’t I broken enough anymore? And so you have to tear me apart?
Just tell me. Do you want me to balance on the edge of a knife, between a Messiah and a wreck, or do you simply want to destroy me and then abandon me? I can’t seem to figure it out. I don’t understand.
I think I’ve gone daffy from all of this. Sometimes I stop for a while and laugh at it. At those teenagers who know it all but understand nothing. I laugh at everything I’ve managed to leave behind just to get it shoved in my face again. I even laugh at how it’s possible to give and give and give and not cease to exist. Sometimes I figure that life’s just a joke. On me. Why else would I be laughing? It’s not funny. But I’m laughing. Think happy thoughts, right? Yeah, sure.
There’s a limit to how many happy thoughts one can think and there’s a maximum of poison one can drink. And how far do you dare to push me? Even if I really am strong enough not to break, like I say I am, there’s nothing I can do to keep myself from getting wounded.
Would it kill you to let just a few kind words slip? It wouldn’t. Think about it, it wouldn’t. But it could save me. Just think about that for a moment.
Because who am I kidding, really? I’m not made of marble like a statue on a pedestal. It all gets to me. The words, the looks, the loathing. Believe me; it does. Did I tell you otherwise? Well, I lied. So tell me I’m an angel because I do care. And so should you.
Lie if you must, just tell me what I want to hear.
I know I’m probably closer to a demon but couldn’t I at least be a fallen angel? Another Lucifer to burn in hell. Or a Gabriel gone insane. Or maybe just an angel that’s gone astray.
Because I have, haven’t I?
That’s at least what I’m told. And it’s hard not to believe what so many persons tell you over and over and over again.
But couldn’t at least you tell me I’m an angel. Because I’ve had enough venom by now and I’m ill beyond belief. Nauseous even.
Am I really such a disappointment? Such a sad, tragic, wasted and spent excuse for a human being? Useless and thrown away, left in a corner to rot. A bad excuse for a saviour. But I’m not a hero, I’m just a man. How much do I have to bleed to prove that to you? How much pain must I go through? It has never seemed to be enough.
I guess you couldn’t care less.
Where’s your heart though? I’m just wondering. I’ve made mistakes, sure, but I’m only human. You demand so much of me. All of you. And I love you, I really do, but when you turn your backs on me and disown me you each take a little part of me away. A tiny piece. Each one of you. Each time. To love and not be loved in return wears me out. Oh, you have no idea how exhausting it is!
Think about it for a minute though. I’m still here, I’m still fighting. I’m still singing. What you do, it will never break me. No matter how many pieces you steal from me you’ll never take my heart.
Are you just jealous? Am I doing too well? Is that why you have to leave? Is that way you feel you have to turn away?
You can all leave me but to be alone doesn’t scare me. But if you stay, if you do, just know that I won’t hate you. I’m at least pretending that I’m above that but, just between you and me, the actual reason is that I need you all. I won’t forget, how could I ever? But I will find a way to forgive.
Because, after all, aren’t I the kind of human wreckage that you love?
Or aren’t I broken enough anymore? And so you have to tear me apart?
Just tell me. Do you want me to balance on the edge of a knife, between a Messiah and a wreck, or do you simply want to destroy me and then abandon me? I can’t seem to figure it out. I don’t understand.
I think I’ve gone daffy from all of this. Sometimes I stop for a while and laugh at it. At those teenagers who know it all but understand nothing. I laugh at everything I’ve managed to leave behind just to get it shoved in my face again. I even laugh at how it’s possible to give and give and give and not cease to exist. Sometimes I figure that life’s just a joke. On me. Why else would I be laughing? It’s not funny. But I’m laughing. Think happy thoughts, right? Yeah, sure.
There’s a limit to how many happy thoughts one can think and there’s a maximum of poison one can drink. And how far do you dare to push me? Even if I really am strong enough not to break, like I say I am, there’s nothing I can do to keep myself from getting wounded.
Would it kill you to let just a few kind words slip? It wouldn’t. Think about it, it wouldn’t. But it could save me. Just think about that for a moment.
Because who am I kidding, really? I’m not made of marble like a statue on a pedestal. It all gets to me. The words, the looks, the loathing. Believe me; it does. Did I tell you otherwise? Well, I lied. So tell me I’m an angel because I do care. And so should you.