Heroism

There is nothing heroic about the act of dying

Only the act of dying alone

 

There is nothing heroic about the act of living

Only the act of living in pain

 

There is nothing heroic about the act of loving

Only the act of loving a fool

 

The Hero stood

Stooped with age

His face wrinkled

His eyes milky with blindness

But in his heart

Flamed a small fire

Barely more than a flame

Of pride.

Pride deserved.

 

There is nothing heroic about the act of dying

Only the act of dying in pain

 

There is nothing heroic about the act of living

Only the act of living a fool

 

There is nothing heroic about the act of loving

Only the act of loving alone

 

In the centre

Of the crowded town

Stood the Faker

He was straight-backed

And young

His hair glistened

And his eyes shone darkly.

In him the fire of pride

Burnt more than a little

Too brightly.

 

 

There is nothing heroic about the act of dying

Only the act of dying a fool

 

There is nothing heroic about the act of living

Only the act of living alone

 

There is nothing heroic about the act of loving

Only the act of loving in pain

 

Reviews

[Eira Anchor]

inspired by your HATE of charge of the light brigade perhaps??
how long is your english? how many words?

[Beatrice Mars]

wow (again) i loved wow you portray the hero, the old man. and the prideful youngman...love it...