a smile

I knew I was supposed to be a Myth
when I realized that a weak me was deserted even by the one closest to me,
that only my parents could still love me when I was weak and dependent.

And then, standing up on my feet again I faced the fact
that myths were not loved but admired.

Yes, that is the curse of the power you sense pressing on your fingertips
each time you prefer to play music instead of raising a weapon;
the same power puts a curse upon us all,
a curse that brings deep lonesomeness along,
a curse to make a legend, a myth, a hero out of you
whilst you solely try to live your own life despite the agony and the tears,
one not to leave you any friends to depend on.

I understood that I should accept help from friends,
but am not allowed to depend on them;
I should walk with my wounds open,
not to gain the pity of the others, but for that's what they want to see in me,
a trace of my battles, the ones I do not always chose on my own.

I would be admired, for all I can and all I actually do.
I could gain this admiration easily.

I could even have a short affair with anyone I might chose,
yet I won't be loved.
This is mostly what the curse is about,
to toss and turn in the deep dark of the night and find your bed cold.

I guess it should be all fine with me by now
as long as I can still see lovers around me.