Being a hero means little to me,
For I have see men labeled as a coward die as a heroes
And men called heroes run like cowards.
A name means nothing when it is all outside
And being called a hero is only a name.
For I have seen countless men live and die,
As only a hero could.
And yet they received nothing more,
Than a little golden star.
Countless heroes have lived and died,
But only a few ever truly earned such a title.
A true hero never worries about titles,
They do what is needed no matter the price.
A true hero is willing to make,
That ultimate sacrifice.
They will lay down their lives,
For their brothers-in-arms,
And give what they can for all those they love.
That is why I willingly gave,
My right leg for the man standing beside me.
I gave what I could so that he would live,
Hoping that he would do the same for another.
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Comments about this poem (Heores by Chad LaRowe )
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(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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