Spired

What happens when the thing you don't believe in, draws you in, like you are a moth to the flame (which is a horribly overused metaphor), and you can't resist, for the mere fact that you are alive and blood still pumps in your veins, like a robot at command you march into danger, into a certain world of destruction, and this is how you are programmed, and you come under fire, but you aren't a robot, you are flesh mind body soul fear anger desire and yet you push and stumble and stagger and stand again ready or not for the next blow and here it comes and to your knees you go but you are still alive and the blood pumps and muscles pull and hoist you up and the crushing blow comes and you show teeth, not in anger, but defiance, not pride, but courage, and you grip to hold on and grasp at a final straw of dignity that what you are is right... even though you will be cut down you will go with your fist raised and your eyes to the sky.

It's because you do believe in it. You may never recieve it. But you believe in it. You fight for it. You are a guardian of it. You keep it alive.

Without you, it would die.

It's a sacrifice, isn't it? I can really find no other explanation...