He was their only hope. A glimmer of light in a sea of darkness, the sole upholder of good in a dark, evil world. He was the leader of the resistance, the only one that gave them a reason for being. He gave them the strength to go through the daily rigors, to brave the questioning tendrils of darkness. He gave them back their self-respect, their self- belief. He taught them to fight for what is right. He instilled in them that fighting spirit, the determination to face all odds for what they believed in.
He taught them how to love, and in loving him, they began to love themselves. He gave them a new lease of life. They began to believe that they could make their own destiny, despite whatever stood in their way. Their confidence, once crushed and played with, became their life force. He was their idol, their coach, their family. He was the symbol of resoluteness, of courage, of pride and humility. He restored the belief they once had in their values and traditions. He protected them from the bitter cold of evil with the warm and reassuring cloak of character. He was spoken of in hushed, awed whispers. Those who hadn't joined the battle hoped and prayed for his victory.
The future of the world rested on his shoulders. He bore the burden of future generations. It seemed too much an ask for one so young. He bore it unflinchingly, almost effortlessly. It was time for the final battle, the final confrontation. He fought for the right to live, the right to freedom. He battled for peace, for a beautiful world. He fought so that the future would be bright. He dreamt of a wonderful world, a place full of love, a place where thought and expression had equal freedom. He fought for everyone, because he loved everyone. He held the bastion of light, the everlasting torch of virtue. He vanquished the darkness. He lit up a weary, forlorn world. He transformed the lives of his people, and changed their dreams into reality. He sacrificed his life for them. He gave up his right to live, so that they and the future generations could enjoy the sunset everyday. He was a not a politician. He was not a preacher. He was a hero. He was their hero.
He taught them how to love, and in loving him, they began to love themselves. He gave them a new lease of life. They began to believe that they could make their own destiny, despite whatever stood in their way. Their confidence, once crushed and played with, became their life force. He was their idol, their coach, their family. He was the symbol of resoluteness, of courage, of pride and humility. He restored the belief they once had in their values and traditions. He protected them from the bitter cold of evil with the warm and reassuring cloak of character. He was spoken of in hushed, awed whispers. Those who hadn't joined the battle hoped and prayed for his victory.
The future of the world rested on his shoulders. He bore the burden of future generations. It seemed too much an ask for one so young. He bore it unflinchingly, almost effortlessly. It was time for the final battle, the final confrontation. He fought for the right to live, the right to freedom. He battled for peace, for a beautiful world. He fought so that the future would be bright. He dreamt of a wonderful world, a place full of love, a place where thought and expression had equal freedom. He fought for everyone, because he loved everyone. He held the bastion of light, the everlasting torch of virtue. He vanquished the darkness. He lit up a weary, forlorn world. He transformed the lives of his people, and changed their dreams into reality. He sacrificed his life for them. He gave up his right to live, so that they and the future generations could enjoy the sunset everyday. He was a not a politician. He was not a preacher. He was a hero. He was their hero.
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