The Superhero

Streetlights flicker,

Eighty stories down below,

Headlights drifting,

Traffic moving to and fro.

 

All noise distant,

Just the wind rushing by,

Nightfall signals,

Crime to fight, time to fly.

 

Free fall entry,

To the back streets, start my day,

I’m so tired,

So much evil, too much pain.

 

No one knows me,

All they look at is my mask,

I’m so lonely,

Is one friend too much to ask?

 

Nabbing bad guys,

All the public ever wants,

No one asks me,

“Wanna go and grab some lunch?”

 

I’m an artist,

Wish the world could see me dance,

I can’t show them,

Can’t give villains any chance.

 

I’m not perfect,

All the toughness is for show,

Go home crying,

Hurt and bruised and broken boned.

 

Not all bad though,

Stopped a killer just last night,

Broke his cheekbone,

Locked him up and saved a life.

 

Just wish someone,

Would come join me, take my place,

I could rest I’m,

Almost past my fighting days.

 

Not retirement,

Boring no more beating thugs,

Just consulting,

Maybe one weekend a month.

 

Got no pension,

Have to get a full-time job,

I like justice,

Maybe I could be a cop.

 

© 2018 MILES VENISON ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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