The Heroes Are Assembled

The heroes are assembled

Lining a round table like the knight’s of King Arthur’s Court, donned in their starlight costumes. Bold dragging capes, neon tights and pastel underwear, as if real-life sketches from a comic artist’s hand.

The heroes are assembled

Every experience collected and served on a golden platter, rescues completed, cities resurrected, galaxies uplifted. The people in need now needless, and the whole world praises our names. All those stories shared on one page tonight.

The heroes are assembled

Hiding behind supernatural characters they feel born to act on life’s movie theatre screens. Levitation, magic, telekinesis, shape-shifting, sonic speed, invisibility...all that sparkle at one table, gathered in this miniature galaxy of celebrities as our journeys intersect.

The heroes are assembled

Gathered in the dark, in this hidden cavern of the world, shrouded in dim light. I just sit and watch, as heroes, having completed dinner, stand and start meaningless conversations. Sitting here, anyone can see the heroes slowly remove the glamour of being a hero, true identities exposed to the cavern and to each other. They become nothing but abnormal beings existing in this world...living...breathing...being. Our secrets are trapped in these cave walls.

The heroes are assembled

In this stone prison, they remove their confident cool demeanor for chaotic tones, arguing, laughing, sitting in silence. Emotions mold on each face, gone are those statue smiles, gone the persona of perfection, the weight of the world’s responsibility eased off just for one evening. They become who they really are…

There are no heroes assembled

There are no heroes in the world.

I sip my coffee. It’s not bitter enough. It’s not dark enough...

The ‘heroes’ are assembled

I don’t think they realize, the way they hide their darkness. That in losing the hero identity, we heroes aren’t as heroic as we seem to be. Are we heroes? Are we just? Strong? Brave?...Selfless? But then why the fake personas, is it not selfish to hide our humanity in order to flaunt our strengths?

I need darker, stronger coffee….

Listening to the drumming conversations, sitting alone, concealed in the darkest corner of the most hidden cavern of the world.

The monsters are assembled

Rising from the depths. Heroes look so heroic, but only in the light. The light is gone now, it’s seeped away and they don’t even realize it. They don’t realize the absence of light because we are all so comfortable in the dark.

The coffee isn’t strong enough...doesn’t hit me hard enough…it isn’t dark enough

From my costume, I take a bottle of midnight liquid laced with starry bubbles which rise to it’s rim. I pour the poison in my coffee mug. I drink...I drown myself in the darkest, most addictive toxin.

It takes over me...I am no better than the false heroes that are assembled.

Darkness is a comfort to lose your soul too...is it wrong to succumb to it?

Is it wrong that we are monsters disguised as heroes?