Keep the Faith

Echo

Hero turned; his back would face the crowd. He winced, he could feel their eyes on his back; their ravenous, greedy, selfish eyes soaking his slender corpse; drenching his pale, soft, shaking skin in sweat - sickly, beating, vile sweat - deep enough to be drowned in its fury. His eyes stinging stinging stinging closed, willing himself to just be still. He stretched, pulled, forced his arms out like the figure of an angel; wings never never never willing to defy the gravity that kept him so impatient on this stupid earth.

Hero could hear their cries, their lies; their bitter, misunderstanding judgements as his hands shook.

"Gerard!" They screamed, "I love you! We love you! You're so sexy! You're so hot! Marry me, Gerard! Gerard!!"

His face would tighten as his heart beat tensely fast; his blood boiling - his teeth clenching. This is not what Hero would hear. The words would pierce his eardrums like billions of swords; like stained glass shattering in a beautiful, fragile, silent cathedral crashing through his blood-red retinas in his nightmares.

And the words echoed.

"You vile monster! What a piece of work! You failure! You disaster! You dog, poser, hideous, retched statue! On your pedestal in all your glory!"

And you feared so, so much to fall.

The notes would subside, the chords would falter, the rythm just an evanescence receding like the welcoming tides of the ocean while he drowned drowned drowned in the addicting ecstacy of the audience's forever-watching eyes. "We love you, we love you, we love you."

Liar.

Hero stepped off the stage without a word and pulled off his wet clothes; nervous, anxious, frightened to meet the fans; the crawling, stalking, fearful creatures who called themselves his followers. His disciples. The fans who would scream and squeal and beg to "just touch you!" The ones who claim to know "every word to every song you've ever written in your whole life!" Oh, you knew them. You knew those. They'd be there.

And then there'd be us.

The fans who may know all the words, the fans who listen just because it's their only way of oxygen. The fans who know who your wife is, the fans who don't think it makes a difference. But no matter how much material information our minds may hold, no matter how much merchandise we may own - our way of thinking will always be different. To us you'll be so much more than a sexy man, a hot guy. To us the music will be so much more than just notes and words. In our hearts you will have sincerely saved our lives.

So before you cross yourself and head out into that cold, cruel world of betrayal, lies, and deceit - know. Know that for most of us, for some of us, for me... You are the reason why I'm still walking this earth. Your music conveys much more than a message. Know, Hero, and never forget; because the words will always echo.

You cannot destroy me.