Born out of hope, they’re called many names:
Heroes, guardian angels, the chosen ones – to each his own.
Hidden in plain sight, until your world is up in flames,
All flesh and bone, they’re armed only with courage – to stand alone.
To tread the tougher terrain, to not look away,
In an ungrateful world blinded by itself so often –
Each of them makes a choice every day;
Until a day comes when he’s on his knees, fallen, broken.
His cape weighs him down, his armour suffocates;
The world tends to forget – a hero, too, can lose his way.
A mask does not suffice when the scars go beyond the face,
He who saves may need some saving on a rainy day.
He may fight the most brutal wars, and win,
But he knows too well the chinks in his wall;
That the most scarring are the battles within –
Some he wins; some, he just hopes to survive the fall.