Where, have all, the heroes, gone?

A sniveling thought,
of a hero’s;
destruction,
comforts;
a cowardly mind,
defect, and, fraught,
in design,
and, made fairytale
endings,
begin to malfunction.

Yet, the heroes –
stretch past,
future manifestation,
as the snakes,
in the grass,
lay,
to measure their size,
presenting, rattle tailed;
lies,
and, parodied exuviations.

Why, do heroes, only exist, in books, films, and, song?

The true-self, is;
heroic,
and, wholesome action;
sublime,
steadfast belief,
becomes stoic,
when soul, and, spirit;
combine.

So, ready;
your righteous,
take aim;
your ambition,
fire at all;
with your kindness,
create;
a virtued tradition.

When, will heroes; number, one million, strong?

@poormansdreams
© poormansdreams

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