I always wanted to be a superhero when I was a kid!
Always had a childish craving for it.
I am a superhero...my superhero.
Saving and defending my ownself.
Coz' during the troubled times,
No one rescues...its just one being ...standing alone, against all odds.
I wish they had given me one chance,
Not to be the hero...
You are the water to my seed,
you push me to grow, blossom and succeed.
You are the hope whispering in my ear
when my despair is growing near.
You are a superhero in disguise and inspire me
to become a strong independent woman and be the best I can be,
I hope that when I'm older I'm even half as remarkable as you are -
you are the most supportive, caring, beautiful person I know by far.
You are so special to me and every day we spend together is so sublime,
and no amount of seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months or years with you will be enough time.
And out of all the grandparents in this universe so divine,
I'm so glad that you got to be mine.
it's not easy being the superhero
because while you're out there
saving the whole goddamn world
who is going to save you?
those selfish bastards need you
but you need them more
and they'll never know
sometimes the superhero
needs saving too
It comes without warning;
you can't choose whether
or not it happens to you.
It's a calling.
The act of someone needing you,
not someone else,
You are the hero they need
to save them,
before there's nothing left to save.
You stay up late trying to find ways to become this hero.
You and the caller talk as long as the caller wants.
While this might not be the ideal situation for the hero,
they do it anyways in order
to make sure the caller doesn't end.
The hero swoops in at every situation they can,
trying to convince the caller;
trying to say how much they're needed.
The caller decides they want to see another day.
They want to stay strong.
That gives the hero relief,
and only pushes them to try harder.
there always seems to be one final time
when the hero's too late.
This is the time where it's not only the caller's end,
but the hero's, too.
The hero hits zero;
the hero doesn't want to continue
when they know how they
could've prevented this.
And that's when the cycle restarts-
the only difference being the hero
is now the caller.
The new hero,
on the other hand,
unknowingly waits for the call;
the call that could save a hero's life.
sometimes i go off
about these worlds
that i make up
in my head.
because when the world
is so messed up,
so much time
in these worlds,
how come clouds
get to be so high
that it's like they're flying,
when all they do is bring rain?
why do we spend
so much time
obsessing over the fact
that we don't have much time at all?
but i think
in these worlds i make up,
it's not so bad.
there are bad guys
but when are there not?
the thing is,
in my world,
i'm not one of those
i'm the one
with the cape
and the mask
and i am the one
who saves the day.
A drawing of a superhero
Done by a fourth grader
Who’s father died in a fire.
He’s standing ten feet tall
With the wind blowing in his hair,
He’s got so many friends
And feels no despair.
All the happy people
They say they love him
And there’s nothing he can do
But just keep going.
But teacher asks a question
And he doesn’t know,
So all the children laugh
At the broken Superhero
All of you were my whole existence
My life line – my sanity
You didn't know my inner world
I may have spoken of dancing
Wanting to stand on mountain tops
You put me high on a golden pedestal
“You can do anything!” you said with admiration
I wasn't the one you believed me to be
I wasn't your savior or your superhero
Inside my fears were magnifying
Like a bubble that would burst
A ticking time bomb
Nothing to hold on to
Rolling down hill
Faster and faster
Scratches, cuts and bruises
Black and blue
Inside and out
I was never coming back
but I am still here
...terrified you won’t like me anymore...
I carry the shallow weight of my own regrets.
I carry the guilt of my mother who felt she could’ve done more for my grandmother.
Nights spent, teary-eyed phone calls to the nursing home.
I carry the comprehension of my father.
Hundreds of times he’s defeated me at chess, at card games.
I am his knowledge.
I carry sorrow from soccer games lost and triumph from games won with the stench of wet grass and caked on mud still fresh in my memory.
I carry the weight of high school, the pressure to get into college, the weight of rumors and the regret of not paying attention in class.
Feeling hopeless and defeated when I fail a test, though I remember I can carry the power of success.
I carry the daily jeers and spite of my peers and my teachers.
I carry the burden of my mother’s size eight firmly up my ass when I don’t do what I’m told.
I carry three-day weekends and the joy of a snow day.
I carry my blood, my veins, my organs.
I carry my bones, my cartilage, my flesh and my hair.
I carry my beating heart and the sound it makes letting everyone around me and myself to know that I’m still very much alive.
I carry the ability of perfect hindsight vision, the ability of blind foresight.
I carry my friends, the pressure of their own burdens.
I own the ability to make them smile, the ability to cheer them up when I don’t know how to help myself.
I’ve carried some of them for as long as I can remember; some I can’t carry anymore, and some I’ve just started to carry.
I carry love and passion; I carry hate and abhor.
I carry confusion, delirium, nostalgia of days past.
I carry insomnia and sleepless nights dreaming up at my ceiling of life to come.
I carry my dreams, both physical and mental.
I carry what I aspire to be.
I carry photography, a story of my life through pictures, through captivity, through still frame.
I carry my wishes.
I carry the beach, the waves that crash down onto the shore and onto me and the salty residue that lands on my flesh and hair from staying out too long.
I carry stupidity, I carry charm and I carry luck.
I carry the regret of anonymity and the fear of being alone.
We all carry that; no one wants to spend life alone.
We carry expensive wedding bands and the pressure to say “Yes” and the hope that she’ll say it.
I carry the everlasting gaze of older relatives, some who have passed on to a better world.
They won’t have to carry anything anymore.
I carry countless vacations and holidays spent with my cousins and the millions of laughs we have shared.
I carry reminiscences of vacations and of meeting new people, people who I tried to stay in contact with, but alas, distance prevents friendship.
I carry the knowledge of the traveled world and the confusion of the uninhabited, undiscovered land.
I am a world traveler, I am a superhero; I am what I want to be and I carry that.
I carry a tainted mind.
A mind spoiled by politics, by war, greed and corruption of not only the government, but of my parents as well.
I carry the ignorance of thinking I’m right and everyone else is wrong, the false sense that I know what is really going on in the world and that I, and I alone, can make a difference.
I carry the benefit of living in a prosperous nation, a flourishing town.
I carry the thought of uncertainty of impoverish nations and how they live everyday without food and water, while I sit here and type on my own personal laptop.
I carry teenage angst.
I carry thoughts and memories of former lovers.
Some girls who have grown up to be different than what they once were, some who haven’t changed a bit.
I carry the thoughts of wonder, should I have said something to her?
I carry individualism, not being afraid of letting you know who I am and what I do.
I am myself and if you can’t deal with it then you won’t have to carry me anymore.
I no longer carry these words; my thought have been poured onto this paper.
My future holds the risk of not knowing what I will carry tomorrow, but I know I will carry life.
I know I may not be able to carry this all, but one thing is for certain: I will carry myself.
If you ever fall in love with someone who is in a wheelchair remember this:
I am in love with you and the chair is not you;
Loving someone in a wheelchair is not about the chair at all.
It is about changing their perspective, from always looking down and straight ahead, to around and up.
Holding their hand when they think they are not normal
Take them to the movies
Travel and go places
And when the two of you fight, don't treat him/her as a fragile piece of glass.
Say what is on your mind
And mean it.
Apologize afterwards regardless.
I have been struck; falling in love with him.
He is always there for me and we are the best of friends.
He doesn't know that I love him
Even though I tell him as often as I can that he is my hero.
He has always stood up for me--
He is my superhero
The pain he feels every moment makes me want to trade places with him so he can walk
Dance at his wedding
Even if it is not with me
To actually stand up to hug his family
To be more active
(Let's go out)
But he makes sacrifices because of his body
If I could take away your pain
I'd trade your sorrows for a day
That you can walk in joy and life
A single day without your strife
And if I could trade longer, I would
So that you can live
A life with two legs and arms