I Know What It Feels Like To Be Worshipped And Not Deserve It

I laughed, when they sang to me your praises, your perfections, and instantly decided to hate you.
From experience I can tell you that the worshipped tend to abuse their power,
And I will not blindly bow to another selfish, deceitful being.

Now I apologize if I seemed hostile the first time we met,
But I was determined not to be swept away by your blue eyes and siren's song.

That was three years ago,
And by now I have been around you long enough to see the bruises that they cover with gold paint,
That your god-like status was more thrust upon you than asked for.
Now I can see that you are just
A boy.

Just another boy, shy and nervous about strangers and girls,
Just a boy, worried about his voice cracking on stage,
Just a human boy, flawed, cracked, and caring.
So we stand here with our arms around each other,
Each trying to help the other not fall apart.


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