In My Own Petty War Poem by A Waltz For Zizi

What is your soul telling you to do? What does your heart want to become? Surely not ordinary. I know you, I made you, and you know it too.
Your heart wants to be a hero, but what kind of hero?

The kind that stares too high for his height. The kind that doesn't waste his heart on gods, but on the people around him. That's why he wants to save them, to carve their name unto his chest, that's why he wants to become a doctor. He loves and hates the world at the same time, with the same amount of ambition.
Many made him cry, but he knows, he was too young then. That's how they succeeded. Today, only death manages that, today they make him smile, all of them.
Even the one that left, the one that led him into writing thousands of pages, this girl he calls November, even her forgotten lips, even they make him smile.
He wants to save them, he wants to hold their heart in his hands, not godlike, but like a human
A human that walks through thorns, through his own infernal hell, to give some stranger a piece of his mortal life, just like his parents gave him, the parents that he loves and hates at the same time also, like most of the things, like all the things.
That's his story. Not your story. That's my story, but whether I will become this hero, this doctor, we will see.
I thought of death so often, but it's not worth it, to end my life. It would be too ordinary, too simple.
I want to fight. I'm gonna fight, my demons and sins, even alone. I want to fight... and if I'll succeed, I'll remember this day and worship it, as the day I've made myself not god, but man. A man that became doctor.