Burn
This is a short standalone. And yeah, I do mean short because it's only 417 words.
You’re burning so bright and hot that you put holes through every person in your path. I’m just another victim of your determination, your need to prove them all wrong. Let me say that you can’t make everyone happy; no matter how hard you try to do so.
And you do try so hard.
Reaching for the moon, the stars, and for acceptance. You don’t stop because you feel you haven’t stopped making them think differently about you. I get frustrated when I watch you, because you can’t please everybody. I’ve told you that many times, but you just continue to do what you think is best.
I wish I could stop you. I wish you knew how much this really hurts me.
Your diligence strikes a chord with people. Your words inspire. You are an inspiration and everyone around you knows that. We’ve never told you because we assumed that it something you had knowledge of that but chose not to show it.
You know nothing except to fight, fight, fight and if you get knocked down, fight more.
Perhaps that is what makes you an inspiration to so many, and to me. Even though it pains me to see you just blindly shut everyone who is not helping you achieve your particular goal, you know no boundaries, you know not to quit.
I would have quit years ago, but you wouldn’t let me.
“Chester, do you understand that when you sing you touch people?”
“What? Mike-”
“Has no one ever told you that? Has no one ever told you that you have the ability to draw people in who wouldn’t give two shits about this band otherwise?”
“Not true. That’s not true. I think you’re damn powerful yourself.”
“I’m not you, Chester. I never will be.”
“You don’t want to be.”
“… We gotta be on stage in less than two minutes. Let’s go.”
Maybe I should have realized then that you held some sort of resentment toward me. It’s taken me years to realize that I sort of fit the type of people you secretly hate: the rags-to-riches rock star. I mean, how can someone who had hit bottom and probably should have been dead becomes famous and loved? It didn’t make sense to you.
And despite the fact that I know you secretly hate me, I can’t help but love and be concerned for you.
So you’ve burned a hole though my heart because you can’t hold the fire that’s in your soul.
_________________________________
I do realize that it's a bit corny, and I'm sorry for that.
You’re burning so bright and hot that you put holes through every person in your path. I’m just another victim of your determination, your need to prove them all wrong. Let me say that you can’t make everyone happy; no matter how hard you try to do so.
And you do try so hard.
Reaching for the moon, the stars, and for acceptance. You don’t stop because you feel you haven’t stopped making them think differently about you. I get frustrated when I watch you, because you can’t please everybody. I’ve told you that many times, but you just continue to do what you think is best.
I wish I could stop you. I wish you knew how much this really hurts me.
Your diligence strikes a chord with people. Your words inspire. You are an inspiration and everyone around you knows that. We’ve never told you because we assumed that it something you had knowledge of that but chose not to show it.
You know nothing except to fight, fight, fight and if you get knocked down, fight more.
Perhaps that is what makes you an inspiration to so many, and to me. Even though it pains me to see you just blindly shut everyone who is not helping you achieve your particular goal, you know no boundaries, you know not to quit.
I would have quit years ago, but you wouldn’t let me.
“Chester, do you understand that when you sing you touch people?”
“What? Mike-”
“Has no one ever told you that? Has no one ever told you that you have the ability to draw people in who wouldn’t give two shits about this band otherwise?”
“Not true. That’s not true. I think you’re damn powerful yourself.”
“I’m not you, Chester. I never will be.”
“You don’t want to be.”
“… We gotta be on stage in less than two minutes. Let’s go.”
Maybe I should have realized then that you held some sort of resentment toward me. It’s taken me years to realize that I sort of fit the type of people you secretly hate: the rags-to-riches rock star. I mean, how can someone who had hit bottom and probably should have been dead becomes famous and loved? It didn’t make sense to you.
And despite the fact that I know you secretly hate me, I can’t help but love and be concerned for you.
So you’ve burned a hole though my heart because you can’t hold the fire that’s in your soul.
_________________________________
I do realize that it's a bit corny, and I'm sorry for that.