I walk through the panels
Of comic books I grew up with
Before I realize
In front of my very eyes
I’m sliding passed
Fun house mirrors
Of the life I grew up in
             And you tell me not to dream?

Look at Batman, look at Superman
They look at me
Though I assumed mockingly
So I turned my cheek away from D.C.
To marvel, to Wolverine
Soon after shredding
My dreams to smithereens
             Would you fight for one?

Then I grew up
I read Huck Finn and
To Kill a Mockingbird
Learned the Bildungsroman philosophy
Read Steinbeck, and Bronte—
All except young Annie—
And even the father and daughter, Shelley
Where I got caught up in the supernatural
Melville’s muddled allegories
Then a comic book
Lay loosely open on my bedroom floor
Curiosity peaked of past dreams
So I glanced once more
             Would you ever let them go?
I saw Batman and Superman
Who looked at me
And said I’m the man
They said follow my dreams
             Never let it go
Look at me, I’m the one
Wearing the mask now, you see
So how delusional
Must I really be?
Don’t worry, if I don the cape
You can commit me to therapy
And if I become a vigilante
Asylum’s where I should be
Though I don’t fight crime on the streets
I’m here right now on your computer screens
My panels, my mirrors, my fantasy!
I choose to represent the hero
Inside of us fighting internally
Yes, it’s there, it’s in you
             Next time you wake up
Believe me
             To sunrise’s harlequin face
Believe yourself
             Fluff a pillow
Stand up
             Reality can wait
When you fight for your dreams

3 responses to ““Masked”

  1. Wow. I absolutely loved this poem! I feel like most of my own poetry happens within a few moments that an idea pops into my head, and this poem has the same spontaneity of a thought or a moment in time, but it is so well crafted and so well thought out and executed, that it strikes such a beautiful balance and all the themes and ideas that could seem so unrelated just fit together perfectly, especially at the end…wow. That’s the only thing that I could verbally express when I finished this: wow.

    • Thank you! I’m really glad you like it, and more importantly, I’m really appreciating all of the feedback you’ve been giving over the last few days. This poem I put up when I first launched this blog, and may change a bit as I don’t quite feel through with it yet, so hopefully you’re not too attached to it as is. It shouldn’t change drastically though.


  2. Don’t worry, I’m attatched mostly to the themes and underlying tones and such of the poem. I don’t know that a work is ever truly finished, you know? They’re kinda like living beings, growing constantly rather than being done after a specified number of edits.

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