i once was a heroe dressed in all black, no one touched me accept the people i desired, a heart made of iron and a body made of aluminium, superman came i defeated him with one hand, spiderman came i stood and laughed at his offense, the world was my cradle the oceans i laid and bathed in, the mountains i tamed one at a time, i smiled to enemies for even they feared to challenge me, my closest rivals sat and plotted but failed in all attempt, i was a heroe the kind with all the muscle, but now i'm weak a fleshy kind of weak, with imperfection reeking from every bone and a kind of intellect that makes me a 0 on an i.q scale yes a heroe no more a mortal is what i am so i wonder if this is what being human is, then why is it lovely to live?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem