You might need them, someday.

You might walk into a room and find
that comfort has left; that relief, that safety
have slipped away when you weren’t looking,
so what now?

We shape ourselves cynics, but we are never
as hard as we like to make others believe.
No, the sharp edges go deeper, they slice open
the vulnerable underneath all this steel,
which is when you need to find a place to mend.

Skepticism is dodging blows and saying
that nothing will ever hurt again, not after this,
but it’s also how you nurse a bruise
from within your ribcage, how you keep it shut.

Do not kill your heroes.
They are human, too, and battered, and bruised,
and ignorant in so many ways that it still
makes you forget they aren’t gods.

They are not gods,

but you might need the faith, someday.
—  Life may still get to you (Larissa M.)