Keep the Faith
Savior of the Broken
I walked in through those doors expecting nothing less than perfection.
What I got was so much more.
We were all standing there together waiting anxiously for your set. We were counting the minutes. Trying to pass time by checking our phones or singing along to the music playing from the speakers. We imagined your voice reverberating instead.
Then you rolled out on your hospital bed singing the entire way. That's when I felt my eyes fill with tears. There you were. One of the greatest talents of my time, my idol since I was nine years old, up in front of me on stage. Flashes of light exploded as you took your rightful place amongst your friends.
They screamed things like "You're so hot! Marry me!" but I'd never cared for those things. Your voice had always mesmerized me and you had a place in my mind and my heart though I'd never met you.
The tears did spill over as you sang songs you wrote. I lost myself in the music and found myself in the lyrics. Those songs brought me back on track through the hardest times of my life.
My thoughts ran fast in my mind. Memories, music, everything. My cheeks were stained black now, but you didn't care. You smiled at me and reached out your hand.
Then I remembered the horrible things they wrote about you. How you were becoming a worse person.
All I could think about that was that here you were, baring your very soul to us. Your words, your experiences, you're trying your best to teach us. To make us all that we can be. Yet they say hateful things about you.
You never asked for this responsibility. To be our voice. Yet you took it on and represented us in the best ways. Were they not fawning over you months ago? What changed?
You may have changed but I think they changed the most. You're still our voice, still teaching, still storytelling. They were the ones who abandoned you and yet you still sing for us every night with the same passion.
You are the brave one. We put you on such a high pedestal, someone was bound to want to push you down. And you're still holding up.
You can't be our little underground pleasure and still appeal to everyone who needs you in the masses. It doesn't work that way.
So, there, crying, singing with you, I screamed amongst the masses and held my hand out.
You're not a man.
You're not a hero.
You're our savior.
What I got was so much more.
We were all standing there together waiting anxiously for your set. We were counting the minutes. Trying to pass time by checking our phones or singing along to the music playing from the speakers. We imagined your voice reverberating instead.
Then you rolled out on your hospital bed singing the entire way. That's when I felt my eyes fill with tears. There you were. One of the greatest talents of my time, my idol since I was nine years old, up in front of me on stage. Flashes of light exploded as you took your rightful place amongst your friends.
They screamed things like "You're so hot! Marry me!" but I'd never cared for those things. Your voice had always mesmerized me and you had a place in my mind and my heart though I'd never met you.
The tears did spill over as you sang songs you wrote. I lost myself in the music and found myself in the lyrics. Those songs brought me back on track through the hardest times of my life.
My thoughts ran fast in my mind. Memories, music, everything. My cheeks were stained black now, but you didn't care. You smiled at me and reached out your hand.
Then I remembered the horrible things they wrote about you. How you were becoming a worse person.
All I could think about that was that here you were, baring your very soul to us. Your words, your experiences, you're trying your best to teach us. To make us all that we can be. Yet they say hateful things about you.
You never asked for this responsibility. To be our voice. Yet you took it on and represented us in the best ways. Were they not fawning over you months ago? What changed?
You may have changed but I think they changed the most. You're still our voice, still teaching, still storytelling. They were the ones who abandoned you and yet you still sing for us every night with the same passion.
You are the brave one. We put you on such a high pedestal, someone was bound to want to push you down. And you're still holding up.
You can't be our little underground pleasure and still appeal to everyone who needs you in the masses. It doesn't work that way.
So, there, crying, singing with you, I screamed amongst the masses and held my hand out.
You're not a man.
You're not a hero.
You're our savior.