Time is a eerie thing

Moving so fast you don’t realize

How much you have been through

The stains on your chest

Scars that penetrate more than simply skin

The darkness of circles that engulfs around your eyes

The muscles that have been strained from endeavors

The mind that has become for once foggy

A mind that is black

No

Please no slack

Maybe I got a few more

After all it’s only sore

Blue

The mirror can be frightening when you peak

A little slower is all not meek

Just stains of blue

And the haze of black

Moving so fast you don’t realize

How much you have been through

For now I guess I’m simply

Black and Blue

I’ll never got forget that day

I will never forget that night

I fell through a trapdoor of anger and sadness

As a child I couldn’t begin to understand

I couldn’t begin to understand this door that I fell through. The endless darkness that seemed to encompass every path that I walked down

Paths that reeked with fear and had walkways that were ablaze and were scorching to the touch.

But then you came

Came to say that you were just the same. And said you could lead me out of this fatal hell smelling trapdoor.

Your shadow that you casted was long, rigid and somehow darker than the blackest of nights. Almost as if not mortal.

You then stuck out your hand and I with a little unease grabbed it. A hand that oddly enough was sweltering to the touch yet didn’t burn.

We then walked in silence and as we were walking, there were no more flames. There finally was no more pain.

Light finally started to peak it’s way through, I’d almost forgotten what it had looked like. I wondered how I didn’t see this path before? How did I not see this easy escape.

Relief came over me as I finally walked through to the light. Man was it bright.

I then remember looking up at you and seeing your mark. A mark that will forever stain me. Walking away I then stopped you to thank you for what you had done.

You simply gave me a nod and told me that I would never have to thank you. But after all these years, I’ll never be able to repay you for what you had done.

Without hesitation you then stepped back into the endless trapdoor, Fooling even the most darkest of places.

For only those who truly see you in the light, know who you are. You are not a demon nor more than a man. You are a Dark Knight.

Age is merely a number but leaves its scars

Age is merely a number until your number becomes too large to bare

Age is merely a number when you are child, you are not yet defiled

Age is merely a number when you have your heroes

A hero that lifts you up from zero

Age is merely a number until your years catch up to your heroes

You finally realize that your heroes are more complex and are just trying to do their best.

Age is merely a number until you come to many realizations

There are no real heroes

You lived in a fantasy as your heroes wanted you to believe.

Age is merely a number until you take a look in the mirror

The swiftness of the day quickly turns into the cold hearted night.

Age is merely a number but leaves its scars

Age is merely a number until your number becomes too large to bare

Age is merely a number when you are child, you are not yet defiled

Age is merely a number when you have your heroes

Age is merely a number until you realize you are not a hero.

I am done, I am tired and I’m beyond irate. This world I reside in is not what it once was.

I am done, I am tired and I am beyond irate. A place that was once full of life, laughter and joy is now full of dread, trends and heads that will not bend.

I am done, I am tired and I am beyond irate. What’s the point of helping, to care and to love if people take a helping hand as a sign of war. Hear them roar?

I am done smiling and laughing

Groups of people scream at me that I’m not smiling the appropriate way. I am done

I am tired and beaten

I help a man and lift him up calling him by his name. I am struck for not saying it properly, like I did it to offend him. For I assumed something he was not, that means I must be punished and thrown like *******. I am tired and beaten.

I am beyond irate

I help another soul only for them to spit on my face due to the mark I wear. For the S is far superior then the bat and to think otherwise is treason they don’t care for my reason. How could I support a man so violent? How could I not wear the S proudly on my chest? But surely this person I just saved can humor me? Surely this person can listen to the side of the bat?

A simple gesture is made with their elongated *******.

I am beyond irate.

One cannot help, one cannot speak unless the ones listening like what is being spoken, one cannot listen unless the speaker is approved.

I am done, I am tired and I’m beyond irate. This world I reside in is not what it once was.

I am done, I am tired and I’m beyond irate. Guess this is checkmate.