messiah complex

It may seem to you that I’ve given up.

Although my head’s low, there’s still something I want.

What keeps me moving trumps what holds me back.

It’s only a problem if I lose sight of that.

You might ask what it is, but it’s not easy to say.

I hardly comprehend what I’d attempt to relay.

Those looking closely might be able to see

the will of God coursing through me.

Symbolically; in humanity, I believe

that the will of the universe is ours to achieve.

Wait patiently if you expect me to explain what I mean.

Every man and woman exceeds Adam and Eve.

Every emotion goes beyond a few Godly deeds.

Every thought plays a role in existence’s schemes.

We all feel the weight of our ancestor’s dreams.

When I look at the oceans that are cornered off for me,

I feel beloved and, at the same time, bereaved.

I can’t help but think of what the world’s missing,

and the mirror of the world that I’m reflecting.

In every eye, neuron, and fingertip there’s

an irreplaceable creation that nothing else compares.

Every human shines so bright, I can’t help but stare,

and feel myself attuned to what needs repairs.

At one point, I thought I was meant to save.

Until I looked within, and realized my depraved

desire to fix only served to behave

as a measure of control that needed to be changed.

Change, did I try, but I can’t help my eye.

I see what I see, and I can not explain why.

All the troubles of the world collapse in on mine,

and I question whether it matters if we die.

The answer is clear, it seems to be here.

If there’s no God to follow, and nothing but here

then what do we do when the end starts to near?

If we don’t know, if it could be any day

every word could be the last that I say.

So I remain quiet, and I follow my breath,

and give into desire at the slightest fear of death.

It might seem strange, and I feel endless shame,

but I would let myself die before I led you to the grave.

I sacrificed myself for your every moment,

and my pain is not one of the chosen,

but a decision I made, in a moment of blame.

A moment when I seemed to make a mistake,

and I refused to fail again, so I drilled it into my brain.

Maybe the moment I became a bit insane.

On that day, a prophecy was created.

Self-fulfilling; a life-long mission became

ingrained in me but what happened then?

I failed my friends again and again.

On one hand, I needed to pretend

that I was the comfort that they could depend.

I could dominate the needs that drove every head,

and be a new figure to bring hope to the end.

I forgot who I was, the human I am.

The one who felt scared and allowed tears to be shed.

I don’t cry much these days, and I don’t wonder why

because the question seems unanswerable to my vague mind.

Sometimes I think it has something to do

with the kid who decided that he knew

how to save every human being who lives to end up like you.

All I knew was it’s something someone had to do.