Keep the Faith
Rise.
"When a building gets torched, all that's left is ashes. I used to think that was true about everything; families, friends, feelings. But now I know, that sometimes if love proves real, two people who are meant to be together nothing can keep them apart."
His love is his band.
He fell once, the hero. He wasn't dead, but not alive. He was living a half-life. He had to drink himself sick, just to get through the day. He was dead in the way that he couldn't live without another bottle of vodka or another glass of beer.
He may not have been in a grave, but he was still dead.
He came back, though. He came back for his love, his band.
But then the hero fell again. He was abandoned by many, too many. Bullets flew around everywhere he went, with whispers of cocaine abuse and self-harm. Every shot hit him, even if he had made out that it had missed. His band, he thought, was failing. His love was dying with him.
But then, he saw the light in the tunnel. The sun coaxing him out of the grave he was unknowingly still living in.
He saw them. The ones who loved him, the ones who hadn't let themselves be caught up in the murderous storm.
They pulled him up from the dirt, brushed him down. They welcomed him in with the warmest arms. Even as the rain pured, as the storm raged on, they shielded him.
He wasn't dead. He was alive again.
His love is his band.
He fell once, the hero. He wasn't dead, but not alive. He was living a half-life. He had to drink himself sick, just to get through the day. He was dead in the way that he couldn't live without another bottle of vodka or another glass of beer.
He may not have been in a grave, but he was still dead.
He came back, though. He came back for his love, his band.
But then the hero fell again. He was abandoned by many, too many. Bullets flew around everywhere he went, with whispers of cocaine abuse and self-harm. Every shot hit him, even if he had made out that it had missed. His band, he thought, was failing. His love was dying with him.
But then, he saw the light in the tunnel. The sun coaxing him out of the grave he was unknowingly still living in.
He saw them. The ones who loved him, the ones who hadn't let themselves be caught up in the murderous storm.
They pulled him up from the dirt, brushed him down. They welcomed him in with the warmest arms. Even as the rain pured, as the storm raged on, they shielded him.
He wasn't dead. He was alive again.
♠ ♠ ♠
Inspired by The Crow.