Keep the Faith
The Fallen
He is dead.
Their faith was what kept him alive and he died with it.
Although he still walks and speaks, he is dead. He called out to them, begged them for forgiveness, even though he did not know what he had done to deserve their desertion, but they just turned away.
“Believe in me!” he had pleaded with the screaming crowd. What were they screaming? Words of hatred? Words of love? All he knew was that they were screaming at him. He chose to follow the sound and do as he thought they wanted, and so, it crescendoed, but still, he did not know what to make of it.
“Why don’t you believe in me?”
He fell to his knees then. No more strength. Although he tried, he tried so hard to hold them up, keep them alive, despite all they were throwing at him, he had no more strength. He fell and they fell with him. They depended on him for so long, he was their addiction, but he was no more. They got up with newfound energy and walked away, but he did not move.
He was on his knees, with his microphone on the ground beside him. That particular object held so many quotes, so many lyrics, so many notes – right and wrong, but only the wrong were remembered.
“Why should we look up to him? He makes mistakes. Why should we look up to someone who makes mistakes?” Their words were decipherable now – but only in his memory. There was nobody there to speak them any more. And so, he found out that he had failed them.
On his knees, his lips curled up in a sad smile of self hatred and anger. There was only one person he was angry at – himself. How dare he let them down?
He had stood tall for so long, with their loving eyes brushing every part of him, their sweet, sweet words murmured into his ears. Those were the best days of his life. He was proud - proud of himself, proud of everything and everyone around him. He loved each and every one of them, just as they had loved him.
Slowly, as his life brightened, theirs grew dull. When he found love, a different type of love than he felt for them, their own love towards him began to fade. Still, he held them up with all his remaining strength, though they could not see. When he fell, they fell with him, but in that, discovered strength of their own, while he was left with nothing. He fell and sacrificed himself for them.
And so, he was the fallen, and to this day, he still is. Though he still sings, there is no more strength behind the words, because it has all been drained. They had drained him of everything. Now, all he can do is sing for the faithless, with nothing inside him. He is hollow. They emptied him of everything.
They are silent now and he is dead.
Their faith had kept him alive.
Their faith was what kept him alive and he died with it.
Although he still walks and speaks, he is dead. He called out to them, begged them for forgiveness, even though he did not know what he had done to deserve their desertion, but they just turned away.
“Believe in me!” he had pleaded with the screaming crowd. What were they screaming? Words of hatred? Words of love? All he knew was that they were screaming at him. He chose to follow the sound and do as he thought they wanted, and so, it crescendoed, but still, he did not know what to make of it.
“Why don’t you believe in me?”
He fell to his knees then. No more strength. Although he tried, he tried so hard to hold them up, keep them alive, despite all they were throwing at him, he had no more strength. He fell and they fell with him. They depended on him for so long, he was their addiction, but he was no more. They got up with newfound energy and walked away, but he did not move.
He was on his knees, with his microphone on the ground beside him. That particular object held so many quotes, so many lyrics, so many notes – right and wrong, but only the wrong were remembered.
“Why should we look up to him? He makes mistakes. Why should we look up to someone who makes mistakes?” Their words were decipherable now – but only in his memory. There was nobody there to speak them any more. And so, he found out that he had failed them.
On his knees, his lips curled up in a sad smile of self hatred and anger. There was only one person he was angry at – himself. How dare he let them down?
He had stood tall for so long, with their loving eyes brushing every part of him, their sweet, sweet words murmured into his ears. Those were the best days of his life. He was proud - proud of himself, proud of everything and everyone around him. He loved each and every one of them, just as they had loved him.
Slowly, as his life brightened, theirs grew dull. When he found love, a different type of love than he felt for them, their own love towards him began to fade. Still, he held them up with all his remaining strength, though they could not see. When he fell, they fell with him, but in that, discovered strength of their own, while he was left with nothing. He fell and sacrificed himself for them.
And so, he was the fallen, and to this day, he still is. Though he still sings, there is no more strength behind the words, because it has all been drained. They had drained him of everything. Now, all he can do is sing for the faithless, with nothing inside him. He is hollow. They emptied him of everything.
They are silent now and he is dead.
Their faith had kept him alive.