Between both and neither,
I am young for I still have heroes
Who have not been shamed,
Abandoned, or lost;
Old, for my heroes all have died,
And no one living seeks their places.
Still I smile, for unlike others’
Their honor has crystallized and remains,
A protective shell that even my own
Muscle-bound cynicism cannot pierce.
Still I smile, naively in search of new heroes:
A breed of blood, will, and intellect
To help me lash out at villainy
(Real villainy, not a caricature of evil)
And fight to the death
(My death, not a fantasy,
Do-over, binary death) ,
Knowing the battle is lost,
And finding that knowledge
Unimportant on all counts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem