Keep the Faith

If he ever changed. He changed for you. For the broken, for the beaten for the damned. For the ones who perhaps owe him their very lives.

He puts his soul on display and he exposes his heart. He shows you all the demons he fought – and perhaps still is fighting. All the scars he reviled to you. Every last one of them.

Did you look? Did you count them?

Or did you turn away before you ever let yourself believe in the man you called a hero. The man you called saviour. The man you now refuse to call angel. Unless you speak of a fallen one.

Angels grow horns much too easy in our time, don’t they? Perhaps they need them to keep the halo in place. You wouldn’t know, would you? You turned away. Turned away. And yet you weren’t brave enough to look him, or any of them, in the eye. You’re not brave enough to tell your saviours you don’t love them like you used to. Pathetic really. But then again; you’re just a child.

In the end, even though it might hurt, your betrayal is maybe not that important. The important thing is that you keep on living. Because after all, the ones you called heroes set out to save people who just couldn’t save themselves. And you are alive. That matters. But you are a traitor and it’s possibly that some might think your life wasn’t worth saving.

I disagree.

Have I got your attention now? Now when I have stopped telling you everything you don’t want to hear. Ah, well, it doesn’t really matter if you listen or not.

I have been torn apart by people like you. I have been spit on when I couldn’t fix every problem that they had. Teenagers that where just like you. Selfish. Because they were broken, because they were beaten, because they where damned. Because they did not know how to handle their pain. But why did they – why do you – have to mould agony into spiteful words and looks sharp enough to cripple? They stabbed me, the kids I tried to help. When I couldn’t fix them they tried to tear me apart.

I couldn’t help them fix themselves. I tried but I could only do so much.

And no one can fix you. But the men you used to call heroes saved your life in a way. They gave you hope, did they not? For once you belonged. How can you just throw that away?

The teenagers I did my best to help once called me kind things. At times. Then they turned around and threw hatred like it was stones meant to kill. But today I know that the torture I had to endure for their sake was worth it. They are alive. They really live too, there’s a difference. And today most of them call me a friend.

That’s why your life was worth saving.

And if you grow up and this still doesn’t matter. The men you called saviours don’t matter. The band you loved doesn’t matter, you really learned nothing at all. Then I suggest you keep in mind that traitors burn in the deepest pits of hell.

And if you really don’t care. And if it really doesn’t matter – not now, not ever. Then how come you turned your back when you ought to have covered your ears?

Don’t bother, don’t bother. What do I know? Call me what you like, treat me like I’m worthless, tell me I’m good-for-nothing. I’m so used to it, you wouldn’t believe. Of course it hurts but it doesn’t really matter if some of this gets through to you.

Everyone deserves a chance.

They gave you one. Don’t you think you should at least return the favour?

Really, now. How is it gonna be? Do you really want to be a non-believer? And be defeated. Because you will be. Trust me. Or do you want keep faith and be part of what help save peoples lives?

They may not be heroes. But then again; does it really take a hero to do something that's heroic?