My heroes ain't larger-than-life.
I can't picture them like that.
Because how can they remain your heroes
When they always let you down?
They will, you know, they always do.
It's a hard thing to see those we admire
Show they're no grander, or bigger, or stronger
Than you or me.
No more human than the guy or gal
Around the corner.
Even my comic-book heroes ain't all that.
I can't get behind a Superman or Green Lantern.
Who can identify with gods who never
Instead, my heroes are like me.
They fight like I do.
They hurt like I do.
They bleed, they fail, but like me
They also get up.
And I can get up one more time because
My heroes are human, mortal, their clothes tear.
They cry. They stagger.
They have names I know and consider friends.
Leo and Andrei. Marc and Mark. Lynn and Sammy.
Jenesha and David. Dave and Mike. Theo and Bill.
Scott and Paul. Nancy and Lea. Caro and Sar.
Peter and Logan.
Mohammad and Abraham.
Jesus and Moses.
Yahweh and Lord.
(For yes, Gods can make mistakes.
They learn from them, we don't.)
So my heroes walk among me.
They ARE me, only moreso.
To all the heroes, everywhere. Let's respect them now, not for special occasions like 9/11.
There are reasons I'm taking medication. They're called "other people." - Me, displaying my anti-social tendancies