Hero

I tend to ask myself questions over and over again.

What is my purpose? Who am I?

Mother used to tell me little girls was made out sugar and spice.

Yet here I am struggling through a mediocre life.

Polluted with suppression, guilt and lies.

And I beg to ask the question again.. Who Am I?

Others see me as a hero minus the cape.

In the mirror I see an entity trying to escape.

A hero is made from powers and strength.

I am made from something a little less dense.

An angel from the crust, not heaven sent.

I wear no cape, does that mean I am a villain?

I’m just trying to fight a cause,

Something I believe in.