Keep the Faith

Human Wreckage

The tears poured, more than ever now, but not of regret or sorrow. I can't see you, no. Theoretically, perhaps, but physically? No. I can hear you though, but only through my jammed up speakers, already clogged with the remorse sound of the rock orchestra in the background. You cry for me. You cry for others. And now, Dear soldier, I shall cry for you.

It was shortly a year I've been lost, in a sea of fear. My wreck of a corpse meant nothing to others, to a point where it also meant nothing to me. Hopeless, was I, stranded with no one to go to. Teachers smiled at me, hoping I'd follow, but inside was instant regret. Loved by my family, and adored by my friends, sure, but they were just pictures. Thoughts and fragments of past times I thirsted to relive. Nothing could help me. Nothing could save me.

And then, there it was. Seven in the morning, beat up and tired from a long night of studying. The green sofa I had been laying on was comfortable, but no where near as familiar as the massacre in front my very eyes.
The blonde hair, not so familiar at first, didn't stand out. The screen was black and white, and the middle aged man's face was camouflaged with the others. For it wasn't looks that were important, neither the bone crossed suits all five were wearing. Their souls were released within the tune they provided, the catchy, up-lifting beat from their guitars and drum cases. The microphone provided a shield for the front man, he was leading the warped creatures to battle, their startled faces then turned content.

They weren't fighting for war, for defeat, revenge or bullets. Not even love, per say. But for strength, for fear, for loss and regret. To gain it all back, after two successful misses.
For me. They were fighting for me. And for others, I could tell. And it was, amazing.
To be loved, and remembered. To be fought for, and cried for. To be sung over, and played for. I couldn't believe it, yet understand it. Was their goal in life to protect me? And others along with it?
Was it to save my own life from the very poison the world has given me? Or was I a fool? To their chagrin, he sang louder.

We'll carry on, we'll carry on. And though your dead and gone, believe me, your memory will carry on...
It was my pleading in his own words. His feelings mashed up in one. They literally took the words right out of my mouth.
Closing my eyes, the tears stopped. I could see their faces, to my relief and a sudden rush of heat filled through my soul.

Is this what it's like to be loved, then? Happiness, joy and regret, all scrambled in one?
No, it's what it feels like to be saved.
♠ ♠ ♠
..I know I keep posting, but, I was inspired by all of you
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