Wherefore I Fall

A heavy burden doth press upon mine heart,
A cruel thread doth slice across my mind.
'Tis not its mere existence that doth wound me so, but rather the dark mystery of wherefore it came to be.
I have read, I have seen, I have heard, and I have striven to hearken unto the tales of men...

Time and again, I hear the sweet echoes of fellowship, the vows of kinship's aid, and the blessings of brethren; yet here I stand, bleeding, for I possess not a soul to call mine own.

I stand upon the very precipice of despair, not for any lack of skill to conquer, nor for a barrenness of wit or wisdom.

I fall because I lack what lesser men possess... A hand to clasp, a shoulder for my weary head, a kindred spirit to hear my speech, a sanctuary of rest.

I fall, for beneath my feet lie iron briars, sown by those I deemed my very own.

I fall not because my limbs surrender—for they did yield a lifetime past.

I fall, for now I know of a certainty that none shall come to mine aid.

I fall, for I am at last assured of mine utter solitude.

I fall, for mine own intellect hath driven them hence.

I fall, for they despise my spirit, my voice, mine insolence... I fall, for now they see I am no longer the pawn they fashioned me to be.

I fall, for I did break their laws before my season; I challenged ere my coming of age, lacking the gray hairs of their ancient custom.

I fall, for they forsook me when I proved too great a storm for them to weather.

I fall, for I would not bow my ear to their designs.

I fall, for they proclaimed I knew all things, wrapping their venom in the cloak of mockery.

I fall, for now I know I am bereft of all foundation.

I fall not from weakness, but for I did bare my strength too proudly before those who could ne'er stomach it...

I fall, for neither my kin, nor my blood, nor mine own voice, nor my memories, hath ever grasped the truth I spake...

I fall, for they departed, and now all the world doth seem a distant mist.

I fall, for there remains no cause for action. For now I know my deeds are as naught to them, just as I became naught the very hour I ceased to be their plaything.

I am the ruined child, he who soared too near the heavens, yet fell not by the sun's scorching fire... but rather, for failing to be the gilded, perfect son.

I fall, for I was ever their final resort, the one who could move the very earth, yet whose labors were forever deemed too meager.

A heavy burden doth press me to the earth.

It hath ever been there; only now, there breathes not a soul to help me bear it.