Fallen Hero

A hero has lost the one thing that makes him what he is.

Pathetic, the old lady said harshly.

The word rings through his head, and he turns away sharply, like he’s been smacked.

Pathetic.

Alone in his apartment, he ponders on what that could mean.

Is he useless now?

Does he have no purpose to live anymore?

Pathetic.

That’s what it’s all about, right?

He’s a white elephant now.

Dead weight to the world.

It’s funny how just one possession can turn you from a revered hero into…

Pathetic.

What was there to live for anymore?

He looked at his balcony.

Maybe…it would come back.

Like he was in a trance, he stepped out of his room, and he was leaning, looking down at the busy street below.

Pathetic.

It would return.

He jumped.

He was flying once more.

And just for a little while, before it all ended…

He didn’t feel so pathetic anymore.

The End

7 comments about this poem Feed