I don’t wear a cape on my back, I wear all the tales of heartbreak like scars so that whoever I turn my back to knows I’m no stranger to disappointment.

I don’t fight evil with fancy gadgets or fight like violence was the first boy who ever intertwined their lips with mine, no I say all the right things, my words a honeycomb, my lies oh so real. I’ll bring out the good in the evil and right when it believes that my love is genuine I’ll show my back and walk away. That alone will knock anything down leaving it clasping it’s chest for air.

I don’t wear a mask because I don’t need a secret identity. I am already so confused with who I truly am behind all these metaphors, I don’t need another identity when I can barely figure out the one tied to my name.