The Hero

 An assassin follows my trail.
No ordinary assassin,
But one who toys with her victims.
Engages them mentally.
Physically. 
Spiritually. 
Emotionally.
And next on her list; me.
How long I’ve been there,
Who knows?
But I’m there.
And have been for some time.
But I, the escape artist, have always eluded her.
Evasive, moving as stealthily as the night.
She’s caught me more times than I can count,
Be it for a second. Minute. Hour. Day. Week. Month. Year. Or more.
But never like this.
She’s smarter now, knows how I work.
Conned me into the biggest scheme yet.
Tapping into a weakness, a need, and exploiting it
Turning a pinhole into a gaping hole. 
Filled with black…
Or is it red…
Or a mix of the two?
So I’m trapped, and it’s only a matter of time…
Or is it?
Maybe I’m trapped but it doesn’t feel like trapped.
Maybe I want to be trapped!
Maybe she wants me think I want to be trapped.
At any rate, I’m here, and it looks like I’m here to stay.
But is she the assassin she’s made out to be?
Could it be that she doesn’t aim to hurt,
But instead aims to heal?
After all, how do we know happiness without sadness?
How do we see the light without the dark?
How do we know to laugh until we have cried?
And, in her quest to strengthen me, could she have torn me down?
Like a muscle, being desecrated, only to come back stronger
Like a phoenix from the ashes.
A phoenix from the ashes… surely she understands.
A protector, protecting not by words but by experience,
As words only stir the rebellion,
But actions… actions garner strength and caution.
What a tangled web we weave…
Or have woven for us?...
And endless battle.
Each left to choose a side and defend it,
Or be swayed for or against?
Her as a protector… It seems too good to be true!
Or too…deterministic?... no… too right.
Too perfect. And there is a such thing.
For the flaws truly show the beauty.
As joy is to depression,
As light is to dark,
As laughter is to tears,
So is beauty to flaws.
Do we have it all wrong?
Though she hunts us down and exploits our weakness.
Our desires.
Our needs.
Does she do it because she sees the inner good?
The benefit we experience?
The better people we become?
Maybe our perception of evil
Designates evil?
And that, by changing our views,
Her views change too.
That by being open,
She becomes open.
That by accepting change,
She brings change.
Nay, she thrusts change upon us.
Willing, but without the thoughts that show us we’re able.
So easy, too easy, to get caught up.
To simply ignore all sense of treason.
And trust, become vulnerable, and not have to worry about it.
To know that she may do harm, and not for harm’s sake.
Maybe she’s not the villain, but the hero.
The hero.
The hero.
The Hero.

Reviews

[Neg]

I find this poem very interesting, very evolving if that makes sense.