Calling All Heroes
_
There's a boy who stands against the wall
smoking away his days.
He doesn't love;
and doesn't care.
Someone beat that out of him
somewhere along the way.
_
He'll look at you with eyes of hostility,
and when the day ends he clenches his fists
to fight his way through the night.
_
Maybe if someone had said
that crying isn't a sin,
that life is full of second chances,
he might not be fighting his way to the grave.
_
So I'm calling all heroes
to guide the lost,
and stand upright
for we who have already fallen.*
_
There's the girl who sits alone
down by the end of the pier.
She's twenty one;
looks thirty two,
and behind the smudged mascara
lie the dry and stale tears.
_
She'll smile at you, though her eyes never will,
and when the day ends she bows her head
for tonight will be as cold and perverse as the last.
_
Maybe if someone had told her
that she'll always be beautiful,
that innocence is to treasure,
she might not keep running in all the wrong directions.
_
So I'm calling all heroes
to show us the way.
To stand upright
for we who have already fallen.
To guide the lost
and lead us back to life.
_
**(That's where I'm going to stick something else in to take away the repitition, and make the poem grow? Either way, that verse will hopefully not be there.)
(I've got all the ideas but I've really struggled to put this one into writing. Suggestions are much appreciated.)
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