The Darkest Hour

Summary: After leaving the SGC post season 8, Sam does some soul searching. But will she like what she finds?

A/N: Hi one and all! This fanfiction is brought to you by Writer's Block.Inc. Prepare for a Sam whumping!

When everything's numb and begins to fall apart

There leaves a shadow of what once was, even though there was nothing there to begin with

What is it that you mourn? You never had it before

How is anything different now?

You're alone and confused, dazed and unsure

Admired by all but not loved by a soul

When the crowds start to mingle it's you who's left out

And it makes you feel so special just to know

That you're a super human being

So what goes on behind the scenes?

When you're gone?

Do they miss you, talk about you, remember you at all

Or are you a strange blur from yesteryear

You left your print as a fine example, a role model and a great mind

But what of who you are?

All that crap means nothing if no one really cares

And if you died tomorrow people would cry

But not because you meant anything to them

But because you changed their lives with your brilliant mind, skill and enthusiasm

But soon they'll find a new hero to fill the void

Won't they?

You only live a half life

You have no love and never really have

Though you crave it like nothing else

You still can't reach out and take what you want

Because you'd rather not know at all

You don't know anything anymore

Who is what? who is who?

And if any of that really mattered in the first place

You're drained

Sick of being the one they all look up to

Wishing you were just another from the pack

But you'd hate that, wouldn't you?

No one to applaud you, no one to watch you

Instead of no one seeing you as just another face

What you would give to be just another face

So easily forgotten, and yet still somehow remembered

What happens when all they have expected of you dies?

When you wind up broken and alone?

Will they still remember what a great person you are?

Or what a wasted talent you have become

And what of those you could never place

The almosts, if you had ever had the guts

Will they have spoken to you since you left?

Or will they have gone on, wondering

Or never having wondered at all

fin