I become this strong man
to wage war.
The night was cold,
its evils, even more so
I was ready, ready
to wage war
on vast armies.
I was no more than any mere mortal you could find on the face of this ***-forsaken planet.
Who am I?
Who am I that I play the hero,
to save the world
when I can’t even save myself?
My strength returns.
What is my purpose?
Do I not find meaning in this
reckless ravaging in the depths of this
Having witnessed the depths of mankind’s depravity,
causing furtherance in destruction.
My efforts are not in vain;
I must do something.
It feels hopeless;
It’s no point fighting.
Why do my enemies mock me,
my own family persecute me,
my friends betray me?
How long more must I turn the other cheek,
whilst others fight to the death?
I refrain from taking life out of rage.
I use it instead to fuel my faith.
That Justice would one day reign.
Could it be so that angels can be found in the likes of men like me?
Could it be that superheros are just as human?
Superman is yet still a man,
what more a man like me?
To others, the mask is always on.
They do not see me as the man I am.
Yet, when the mask is put on,
I become the man I ought to be.
the fight goes on
and everything that is worth
Dedicated to my cousin. Happy birthday.