The words coming out of your mouth were bitter, harsh and cold.
They hurt, you say them with spite, influenced by your monster,
which had taken over, you let it take control of your words, your actions.
I try my hardest to not let it get to me, tell myself it’s not you, I can’t help
it though. You had always been my protector, my hero,
I had always looked up to you, but not anymore.
What am I supposed to think? You’re not the same anymore.
Your actions are harsh, is it really you who’s being so cold?
Occasionally I see the ice melt in you. There you are, my hero.
What feelings are you trying so hard to bury that you turn into this monster?
You were supposed to be my rock, your job was to patch things together. Help
me, because I can only stay strong for so long, I can’t put on this act
much longer. I am not strong, nor am I brave, which is shown by my actions.
I’m a vault of secrets that would destroy what little is left. We’re not a family anymore.
We have betrayed each other’s trust. We’re unhappily living together, desperately in need of help.
We deny everything but our sadness. I remember the worst fight. It was summer, cold
only existed in the arguments that brought up things of the past, hurtful words fueled by the monster.
From that point on I watched it all crumble, you’d become this mean man, no longer my hero.
That night had changed my view on everything. I became scared of the person I used to call my hero.
I was terrified. Never had you frightened me like that before, your actions
were those of a heavily intoxicated mind, all caused by your monster,
which you can never seem to leave. Do you not see what it does anymore?
Tearing apart what is already torn? Do you not hear the words you say, those cold
words that embed themselves deep in the brain. There is no helping
you. I can only sit back and watch you weep. I want to help,
I need to help, here in front of me is this man I never saw sad, my hero.
The saddest thing I’ve ever seen was you the next morning, cold
water droplets on your back from your shower, as you cry, recalling your own actions
from the night before. At that point I have no idea what to do anymore.
Never had I been put in that situation, the unfamiliarity itself was a monster.
I used to fear the unknown, now I fear seeing more people I love become monsters,
haunted by the things they’ve done in the past, desperately in need of help
but too proud to get it. Often they turn away from those they’ve hurt, anymore
attention paid may result in another bonding with the monster, their own hero
they look up to it, searching for answers, not realizing that these actions
are what got them to where they are now. Is that why your heart’s now ice?
No more will I allow myself to view this monstrosity.
I will become a cold person, unaffected by arguments, not in need of any help.
No more heroes, I’ve learned that when you look up to others you’re likely to be let down by their actions