Harmony in Chaos

f i f t y t w o |

Guyyys. Poetic license here, please. Excuse the additional illegitimate embellishments, and if you're too much of a grammar Nazi, I suggest you just leave that aside for this one period of time. Thanks. ^~^
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Because not only were we ruined, so we're they.

Not only were we hurt, so were they.

Because not only did we fail, but also were blamed,

And not only did we try, but their effort too was in vain.

We were their saviours, their light and their sweetness, Our pain was their disaster and our name was their fame.

We were their night, and day, and redress.

We were alive in their eyes their cries and their gait.

When sadness knew no bounds,

When pain didn't understand limits,

When sorrow didn't fail to noiselessly howl,

When our emotions were shared by victims.

We would huddle in a shadow,

All together and precariously sound,

We would shut our eyes tight and would shake vigorously and cry with no sound.

We would keep it all in ourselves,

Each more remorseful of the other's ache,

We would then try to stay all in one piece,

By sticking together and holding each other in place.

They were all only hopeless, and poor bare ripped souls.

They were all withering empty pots, left out in the winter's cold.

They were although, little shy and a little desperate,

They were, at the same time, brave and filled with courage.

So they rose high, like weeds through all the grass,

They climbed high, like vines on a slippery wall.

Still, while rusting and becoming corroded brass,

Even when they couldn't walk, they would fight and they would crawl.

We were their leaders, we were supposed to be the strong ones.

We were their strength, and supposed to be their heart.

Though, they were the ones, who held their ground hard,

They were the ones, who crossed the finish line despite the worst start.

We, being elder, knew that they wouldn't last,

We, being experienced, knew that their ship had a torn mast.

But they had a peculiar spirit,

A queer strength and dignity for themselves,

They had a motive,

A particular drive that protected them from themselves.

They wouldn't give up, and they wouldn't give in,

No matter if they felt like, hopelessness was sinking in,

They would crumble from inside, they would claw at their inner walls,

Then their own strength would flow into the cracks and stick them,

Hope, being the only striking thought against bitter hauls.

They held on, we fought, they helped on, we longed.

They were desperate, the poor things,

We had almost left it, poor beings,

There were always the almosts, never that actual,

There were always the warnings and the threats only,

We had cried and wailed, been naked and slaves,

All we got in return were ignorant smiles.

We didn't know, what help meant any further,

They only always believed in it,

So pure they were, so young, trapped and yet free,

So good was their hearts blood, that they believed what would never be unreeled.

That's what was the torn apart faith,

That was their unfurling fame,

They weren't so tall, or high, or mighty,

They only had wings, transformed from shame.

They were, really, helpless, they were sad and sorrowful,

They were tenebrific, in their entire galaxy of pain,

We would see them, and our hearts would break ever so often,

That we would forget the perennial blood, flowing out of our own veins' pain.

They held on to us, and held us together,

And we held on to them, like they were our lifeline, (were they?)

Forgetting that no hope, no power or faith was a glue crazy enough to fix us,

Or even fill up the empty holes and splits,

Forgetting that it was really us, that had stuck to ourselves all along this while.

We would watch and we would cry,

We would bear and we would cry,

We would wither and shudder and whimper,

And they would just take it in, let it sink in their bones, and open their eyes wide to show,

It was there, there trapped inside but it was not coming out any time soon as they, they would not let it,

Let it tear apart their clothes.

(it had happened one too many times).

Hurt glossed the epidermis of their lips,

They would stare at you blank when you would ask them what went wrong,

When fear just passed a glimmer through their eyes,

Even when help was evident through their tears, the same when it was slicing through the norm.

They were tied, they were roped, they were doped, and they wept so long,

You would see their bodies twitch an every few seconds with a flash of hurt,

We were so lost in their personality, it screamed love, ache, and longing,

You would not understand even a fraction, no matter how long you tried to.

They were ripped, we were only Now crying, we shed tears, and they only saw because of whom.

Heaven, we were stars. We all. We were those that made shapes out of scrap and joined broken pieces to form mosaics.

We were those that held the map of the world in our palms, and we were those that made our own roads and walked over them.

We didn't follow great paths, but we made simple ones and left great trails.

We were legends. We all.

And they realised, a century after our death.

Because we, oh great heavens, we, we're invisible, with the light radiating from our painful glory.