I know I'm wrong.
I'm always wrong aren't I?
If I'm the protagonist, then this story is much more twisted then I'd ever thought it'd be
Because this protagonist is not a hero
If you read my story, I'm sure the end would be sad even though I haven't met it
A waste of a book, one that only details manipulation and lies
Sacrifices made for those who don't deserve it
And people hurt because they're too blind or selfish
I'm not a hero.
I'm always the villain, aren't I?
I've always been stubborn, and refused to change for anyone around me
Even when I know I'm in the wrong.
So as these sticks and stones break bones
I suppose I'll take the blame for the falling trees and the avalanche I knew I could never stop
Because "I'm only human" is never enough of a reason for sympathy, is it?
So instead of searching for reason without doubt,
I'll sit alone and think about giving up again on writting this story
Because I'm sure by know the reader in my head knows the cycle
And yet, I'll write another page that I'll never share
In the end, I'm too scared of what they'll say of a
A protagonist who is no hero.
