There are fall-guys, as rare as pearls,
When scapegoat, is just a foolish heart,
Searching for bravery, to counter a world
That is famished of heroism. Supermen are wanted,
The poster-boys playing a different tune,
One of unflinching fear, who rally
The people to riot against the maleficent,
The hurricanes that are brewed,
By the calamity of human imperfection.
Heroes are just ordinary people
Who quest for the extra-ordinary,
Like Clark Kent, who took his glasses
And suit off, to become, a caped crusader.
And super heroes, just like how they stretch their leotards,
They stretch the limits of human deed,
To that all-encompassing quest for perfection,
To seize the hour – carpe diem -when frailty
Ceases to exist, a kryptonite-less world.
And in between the under-worn courage
And over-worn undergarments
Lies a man, unrecognizable to oneself,
How little it takes, to transcend,
To find one’s mettle,
Inside a hero’s ore.