Heroic shades of white
Overlapping on a grassy field
A sound of blackness in the distance,
A herd of gunfire stampeding
With no remorse
But the man in the heroic pose,
His shoulders firm with a
Letter emblazoned on his chest, and
His multicolored cape swaying
Gracefully behind him,
Believes with pride that
The living innocents, the innocent innocents
Would stay unharmed and
Protected, so to speak,
With his heroic assistance.
“A hero is what these innocents need,
And that hero will be me,” he proclaims
With a voice louder than the
Horn of the heavens.
He flies into the fray regardless of the
Blizzard of bullets storming from all ends,
The innocents dying of wounds beside him
And with ignorance and
Perceived valor and
Perceived strength
And real bravery and
Nothing,
He’s gone,
Disappeared, missing in action,
Another sheep in the conveyor line,
Another ant stomped under the foot of
A more menacing power
Without the flowing cape, the
Strong pose, the
Generosity, the
Selflessness, the
Firm shoulders, the
Grace, or the
Pride.
He was simply another ant,
But a stronger one,
Who did not let the idea of
Heroism
Go to his head
Before the idea was mutilated.
Very well executed poem of an intriguing idea.
Much appreciated, Tony! I was recently rereading The Watchmen when I wrote this; if you’ve read it as well, it might be a bit obvious where the inspiration comes from. I love that piece. Thanks!