To Be a Superhero, Ethan Chen

Nightmares will haunt your dreams.

Even after a 4,000 thousand mile flight,

They will follow you home, hiding in the shadows.

They will make you wonder if you’re doing the right thing at all.

Some nightmares will be about the grotesque,

half-melted villain that fell in lava.

You wonder why he let go of your hand,

Why he would choose to die rather than have you save him.

Others will be about the teenager you couldn’t save,

The one who still jumped,

A splatter of flesh and bones on the pavement.

No longer whole and suffering for another living day.

There were parades of vibrant flowers,

Bouquets of pink roses, blue cornflowers, and yellow chrysanthemums

Being thrown joyfully at you and

20-foot balloons of you and your friends danced in the air.

Little girls in yellow-striped dresses and shining pigtails

Ran at you, embraced you,

And then had you sign a schoolbag

With your face on it.

There were parades of swords and rifles.

They pointed at you.

Bullets were fired and missiles were rocketed at you.

Hung 20 feet in the air, between skyscrapers,

You read, “Hasa priv ghair.”

Go home, invader,

As you stood in the result of

Another one of your great big battles.

It isn’t cheers and whoops you heard.

It was the crackling of fire,

The sound of cries and screams

Of the innocent people you hurt.

Little boys who admired you,

Your face on their t-shirts,

Ran away, horrified at the sight

Of their hero killing their family.

Many more will hate you than love you.

They’ll want to kill you and send packages to your home

With a timer and red sticks ready to blow.

They cry as they press the trigger on their chest.

There you are, holding a burnt skull.

You see graffiti on the husk of a building.

“Cur ningorai poth,” it said.

You’re only a hero at home.