Keep the Faith

Silence.

The room was silent. The darkness was almost blinding; like a blanket cast over the world weaved from the eyes of the dead.

One person sat in the middle of this darkened world, just one. He was just as the world; dark and alone.

But he alone could light up this night.

A hero, he was. He was the moon, high in the heavens, surrounded by black. The stars had left him, left him long ago. Nobody saw him anymore; the clouds of sadness had hidden him from the view of the 'normal people'.

To them, he was just another fallen face.

Then he was found. He wrote, he sang, he drew. He lived again. The clouds drifted away, he could see them all once more. He was seen again.

They screamed for him, as he poured his heart out on the stage. They sang with him, spoke with him, laughed and cried with him.

Life was like a dream.

Then came the silence. He tried again, to be seen by the world.

"He changed with his vision," they said. They said he'd lost sight of who they thought he was, that he had changed into something they saw as wrong.

They didn't scream, sing, laugh, or even cry with him anymore. He was fought against by the hundred-thousand 'fans' who had joined the legion that lived to bring him down. The haters.

The hero fell.

He fell hard and fast, much like one would fall in love. Except, when the hero fell, he didn't feel needed, didn't feel wanted.

He was close to the bottom of the seemingly bottomless pit. Close to the end.

But, he picked himself back up. For his fans, for his band. For his new wife, his new sister-in-law. For his brother and family, for his friends. For his weaknesses, fears and regrets. For his lost lovers and friends left behind.

He did it for them.

He didn't do it for them, for the haters and those who left him for dead.

He did it for the ones whose lives he had touched, changed, even saved.

He did it for his own parade, clad in black. Behind him, ever faithful.