Making of a Hero

Heroes aren't born because anyone can be misguided.

Outlandish in an offbeat crowd

Marching to the beat of drums I’ve never heard before

None of us have ever heard them before

They boom massively and echo through the caverns of our mind

And that’s the first call, the awakening.

You can close your eyes again and shut it out, I know I’ve tried

But it never works

We’re reckoning with a tale that has yet to be written

A fable that rings true in every sense

A consequence we can’t stand to face, yet we do

It’s unorthodox and messy

It’s fatiguing and unkind.

I break myself everyday to try to succeed in this mess we’ve made.

I break myself every night.

If I get a night, even those are scarce.

Through tears, no, not tears, through sweat.

A restlessness that grows uneasily in my mind

I know you feel it too.

A swelling, we’re devoted to this.

We’re devoted.

I asked for this and so did you.

Are we happy?

We don’t have the time to feel, it’s not important.

Bustle around to solve dilemmas and encourage each other through the pain.

It’s not pain unless that’s what you make it.

And what do I make it?

What do I think this all is?

Important, absolutely without you and I, who could take our place.

Who could fill our shoes? Who could take this pain?

Not them. No they’re the reason we do it instead.

So they can be alright. So they don’t have to suffer.

We’re not completely broken, we’re not completely bruised.

The darkest night comes before the light. And that light brings more to do.

More agony, more trust. A bond so unfathomably true and real.

We fail together. We die together and yet we succeed together and we live together.

I find it so sweet. So sweetly bitter.

A pleasant surprise on a day you felt nothing but dread.

You don’t moan and groan though, none of us do. We feel the pain in our muscles but in our hearts we’re proud. We learn, we thrive, we grow.

We become better for the people that aren’t able.

We stand tall for the people who can’t.

We represent the masses in their great goodness and glory.

And we fall if we don’t keep holding them up.

We pride ourselves in all this, we have to.

We shut our eyes no longer than a wind billows by.

Our eyes flick back open ready for a fight, ready to die.

A sacrifice so extreme and glorious to make.

We don’t do it for that. We do it because we are them.

We love them.

And if we don’t do it, no one will.

How do we get out of bed when every light is off?

How do we traverse a land so barren and bloody?

How do we push forward and somehow motivate each other even though we’ve lost all hope in ourselves?

How do we do what we do?

We’re here to train to be the defender.

We’re here to persevere and surpass all limits.

We’re here to allow people the opportunity to question “How”

This is our moment, this is our chance.

Don’t let go of it yet.

We fight for freedom, love, and hope.

We’re here now to let everyone keep those things.

And its pain and sometimes it feels never-ending and scary.

But that’s the job.

That’s the path. And heroes have never been born.

And where we are now, this place we’ve marched along, we’ve slept unrest-fully on, we’ve wept, bled, and sweat on.

This place--is where heroes are made.

Don’t forget the purpose, don’t forget the light.

It’s an awkward climb with barriers unknown, it’s unreasonable path with temptations and folly's littered upon our road, but we walk on, resist, and carry ourselves with height and damnation.

We know what we’re doing.

We know where we go.

And wherever it is, you ought to know, those things you believe in aren’t always free.

And the price that their worth is a price paid by me.

Long last in the hour we represent trust, don’t forget us when we’re gone, blowing in the dust.

Long live this old hero, my time will come soon.

Bury this hero in an old broken tomb.

Let go of me now, I must be free too.

Take your place when you bow then my love is with you.