On bravery

I mourn your death every day. I have seen you die so many times you'd think I'd be used to it right now. I hate how I couldn't save you. God knows I tried, and maybe that's the problem. My willingness to put everything behind me and still wear my heart on my sleeve. You didn't stand a chance though, not with what you knew, not with the cards you were dealt but you still played your hand with confidence and I admire your conviction. A broken vessel, you were always good with analogies so I'll describe you with one. In a world dying of thirst you were a broken vessel trying to hold in as much water. Trying to save these precious drops from being lapped up into the atmosphere by the suns rays. You can carry water but never enough to satisfy any amount of real thirst.

The world you thrived in no longer exists. You had to be ripped from it because you would never leave willingly. The whole house had to come down because a renovation simply wouldn't do. You were stripped naked and forced to wash your filth in the public eye. It's almost as if we serve a cynic, who chooses the most humiliating and painful ways to teach lessons. This world revels in stripping the innocent and inculcating them by flogging. Pain is the only way to learn it seems. It seems you had to learn humility so you got dragged through the mud. It seems pain is the only way. Your naivety led you straight into the jaws of reality. All the castles in the clouds fell onto you and you didn't stand a chance.