Although it is a matter of perspective.
One man's hero might as well be another man's demon.
But they do exist.
They are out there, waiting, inspiring,
Sprouting out of everyday's hardships.
But who do we call a hero?
Someone who managed to live his life prosperous
Raising healthy children
And ending up dying content
In his old age
In his sleep?
No.
A hero must have embraced pain
Dragged on the streets
Beaten to death,
And torn apart.
That's the way one earns this title:
Through obliteration.
But we need them.
Alas, the world wants them;
With a desire so intense
That is constantly creating them.
