The ones that wore capes, and flew through the sky,
At speeds so intense, they could have broken it.
The ones that could stop rogue bullet trains
And those that were impermeable to bullets.
This is what we grew to idolise.
To my young inexperienced eyes,
None was a hero
Until they could bench press a skyscraper,
Grossly unaware of the ones that couldn't
The ones without a superhuman feat to their name
But they managed to talk a suicidal man off a ledge
The ones that opened their houses to the homeless,
They didn't have much see, but they shared what they did.
And what they couldn't give by resource,
They did by hand
The ones that helped build the community home for orphans by hand
The ones that give themselves to Hades at the frontlines of a war they did not start.
The ones that do not delegate a telly to raise their children.
All the way to the empath.
The one who knew the stranger next to her on the bus wasn't well,
So she talked to him, showed him kindness.
And unbeknownst to her, kept the noose from his throat.
Inherent_good
This is a poem by a dear friend. It was too good to pass up on sharing it.
