Aerin Andre

A Hero Is Dead! - Poem by Aerin Andre

A battle worn hero is dead and whose fault lays with me.
The hero of the fable has passed
One glistening tear falls down my dirt ready cheek.
The enclosing pain in the center of my chest grows in pain.
How is it even achievable to stare into a shattered piece of a reflection knowing that the hero is missing.
A life has passed and I can not comprehend who the fault seems to lay.
Yet all the evidence lays to my skin pieced finger prints.
How to express the known knowledge of guilt that rapidly unravels all that seemed automatic information.
The fog never truly evaporates for his followers weep in distress.
The hero seemed so impervious to all pessimism, and yet he is missing in this event.
Sit and ponder for he should nonchalantly glide through this red slit entrance way with a humorous explanation.
All that enters is a gust of narcissism with ever so steady drops and keep the pressure conscious.
Memory to fade for knowing why this champion has vanished.
A hero is in fact dead because of me.
Who gallantly helps those in the select situations and need the heroic character.
Lay and snivel from which ever position relieves the most pain from whatever hole seems to be backed up in agoraphobia.
Persistently trying to push the slide show of the events passed in a glimmer to not repossess the ache that has not taken leave.
A soul is gone and yet the responsibility lies on my shoulders.
How is this dealt with without extreme precautions or any other effects to keep the feelings away.
Yet nothing is left to discuss for no ones gentle hand can offer the reparations needed or no decided subtext required.
What explanation doesn’t fit skeptically with the mental prints left so lazily behind to keep it vital.
A hero one so far away from mortality is lifeless because of me.
A life is lost occasionally yet differ the only one to keep matters discontent.
What equality reaches the high value of a souls disappearance through a silenced shade.
Try to screech, yet it remains so eerie and unvoiced.
Convey to understand a guilty hand at fault through no judgment.
It is unfair to realize,

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 22, 2010

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