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March 27th, 2024 My son’s not a hero was her first thoughtHe’s just a kidHis smelly shoesHis messy roomAnd a constant smirk on his face I’m pretty sure that’s not what heroes look like, she saidHe’s
Not all heroes wear olive green Though many of them do anyways They come in all shapes and all sizes Deserving of all of our praise Not all heroes carry weapons and ammo Though too many
One is the loneliest number Even lonelier than zero Because the none are all together And the one, the lonely hero Can survival be survival If the one to testify Has to do it by his