Of Steel

I grew up
with visions
of being bitten
by a radioactive spider.
Becoming the world’s
greatest detective,
joining an intergalactic
space police force,
or being struck by lightning,
being known as the fastest man alive.
I wanted to commit acts of great heroism,
rushing into a burning building
to save the helpless,
or leap into a spray of bullets
to protect the innocent.
To use my strength
my speed
my will
my powers
for good.
I suppose
what I really wanted
was to be remembered.
To have my decisions
the choices I made
to matter,
for them to not be made in vain.
But I think,
most of all,
that dream was birthed
out of fear.
A fear
of being forgotten.
No one forgets a superhero, right?
As I got older,
I found myself
still looking up at the stars
still hoping.
My dreams of soaring through the skies
in a ruby red cape
seemed more and more fantastical
as I became to accustomed
to the way the real world works.
So I hung up my boots,
my power ring,
my cape,
my cowl,
and accepted the fact
that this world
just isn’t ready
for superheroes.

when I am out
walking late at night,
I stare up into the sky
and wish
upon any star I can find.
one day,
my day will come.

I will not be forgotten.


12 thoughts on “Of Steel

Add yours

  1. “…accepted the fact that this world just isn’t ready for superheroes.”
    You are an example of writing being a superpower…that makes you a hero among authors… that’s got to count for something… Fabulous post! Again!

    Liked by 1 person

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