Who is the Hero?
A vague face of pride,
A gray arrow of a judgmental justice.
The Hero flies a flag of feigned ignorance,
Forever flat against the unfortunate and
Bent around the poor.

If the Hero knew what was good for us
No one would live near the other;
Realistically this has little gravity, with wings
Spread and weight
Spread across a space of white specs.

At least might the Hero heal violence,
But every birth is he slain in jealousy.
So, for a Hero, we must preserve evil
And so must he.
We embrace roller coaster ethics
In all but such flatline heroics.

Sensically a gray string flies such things
And a gray quarry makes gray buildings
So when a golden quarry comes again,
Won’t the average change the “same”?
Only the sine can match.
Shots form semicircles against,
And not circles like the flawless function.

I wish for a coaster to deliver extremes.
A hero of gray is gray.
Nothing will come of today.