did you really mature?
{your maturity makes me want that, too.}
or does it make you feel good to think that you did?
{but it didn't make me feel so good, i swear that it's real.}
i want to be the hero that you are,
so mighty on your throne,
with your powers of love and forgiveness,
but really, your heart is stone.
does it make you feel kind? so smart? so strong?
taking in little me, so oblivious to your ways,
you bent me and made me in your shape.
and now i'm crying on a marble floor,
mascara dripping on my face
{"she's crazy!" i know, isn't she?}
i am a copy of you, but you're not a hero anymore,
you're a burden, and so am i, it's true, i hate it, it's true.
if i tried to prove my use, if i tried to prove my worth,
would they laugh at me? like they laughed at you?
i want to be the good guy, the one on the right side,
the one doing the right thing, with the right morals,
the right friends, i want to be good so bad,
i'm stretching every part of me, so that they can see it all,
and be impressed. if i'm not useful, then i'm not at my best.
i'm worth it, if i could just show them. it's my fault, it's the truth,
i'm trying so hard to be on the same page as you.
one second i was so perfect, and now you're walking out the door.
what use is being the hero for? why did you make me like you?
a/n:
perspective of a hero turned villain having a mental breakdown?
