Feb 18, 2023


He was like a tower,
built to dominate the sky.
He was like a giant
—steps of a mile—
and couldn't die.

He was like the storm,
which leaves you
with no choice but to hide.
He was like a god
—morality, strength, and pride.

As I grew older,
I saw the cracks in the earth
becoming harder to hide.
The sky turned gray;
"all is well" wasn't the case;
my hero had lied.

The lake became a deadly poison,
yet he gulped it down like water.
The woods became drier,
and there wasn't an animal left alive
after the fire.

The tower has crumbled to the ground;
my ears still ring,
but there wasn't a sound.
The storm has passed.
There is peace at last.

He was a real hero,
even though very grim.
He was a real hero
in teaching me
to not be like him.

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