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.