I was born to be great.
I woke in the arms of hope,
seeing only the eyes of promise;
my mother's undying faith,
my father's immovable justification,
their simple truths bore me to greatness.

My mother's faith, it quivered;
Assaulted by unjust circumstance.
My father's justification, it faltered.
Achilles struck down by his own heel.
I rallied with mediocrity, shamefully.
I fought valiantly to be worse.

The immovable struggles to stay above water,
the faithful begs to be saved, to be helped.
I trip over my own words,
the wrong moments define me.
Disappointment cast my way like a brick,
I was born to be great.

I have seen heroes fall,
Watched villains be slain.
Never have I witnessed the shadows.
The shadows of the once-great,
towering over them--looming with regret,
encompassing the fallen with the question:

What if?

All of my friends are dead.
They're still breathing,
their hearts still beating.
But all of my friends are dead.

The light has gone out,
eyes like stones and hands as cold,
smiles that just don't reach.
All of my friends are dead.

It came gradually in adolescence,
caressing my friends' troubled minds.
Singing them to sleep with silence,
all of my friends are dead.

It promised them relief--nothingness,
in comparison to the weight of everything,
they just had to take the chance.
All of my friends are dead.

Everyday I remember the silence,
the nights it sang me to sleep.
Some of my friends are sleeping forever,
but all of my friends are dead.

I don't recall how long I was on the floor.
My knees buckled;
Gravity betrayed me.
Crawling to bed, I slipped into his shirt.
It still smelled like home.
There was no solace.
I laid in bed day after day.
Word had spread through merciless mouths,
My pitiless inner turmoil
Now casual conversation.
Hushed sympathies and cynicism.
Confirmed expectations like bullets,
ripping through my skin.
I had plans for us,
and I swallow those words;
A pill that chokes me.

Part of me is still in that house.
Part of me is still living out my days,
with you.
A life that only exists in fragments,
sharpened edges of memories.
They cut to the bone.
I see you like an apparition.
I am defeated,
Sadness taking a physical form.
My delusion fades into reality,
I see your hand slip away.
In this reality, I am defeated,
but I am reaching still.