the tale of a hero vanquishing evil,
slaying the monsters around him,
defeating all his opponents.
the tale of a hero conquering his enemies

but what does it mean to be a hero?
how many lives must you save to be a hero?

100? 1000?

No, of course not.

It's only one.

You only need to save one life to be a hero,
and it's okay if that one life is yours.

the bells ring from within my head
nothing else to be heard but the conscious banging of the door

there is no escape, i thought to myself as i rested my head against my own reflection
shifting and warping between the realities that could have been

a doctor, a scientist, a leader, a father.

and when i look up at my reflection the only thing that stares back at me is me.

everyone surrounds me wanting to become part of me by telling me who i should become.

no one surrounds me supporting me to become part of the solution, instead of trying to fix my problems, they try to make me the factor.

the common denominator.

i looked at my own hand and back at the mirror and i screamed silently.

this is my life.

i control it.

and i puncture the skin that everyone wanted to steal.

then- and only then,

am i freed

why can't you ever love me like she can.
why can't you ever appreciate me like she can.
why can't you just be satisfied with me like she can.

why do you always criticize me.
why do you always ridicule me.
why are you so insistent that i'm wrong.

she doesn't tell me i'm wrong.
she doesn't make me feel ashamed.
she doesn't make me feel guilty.

she loves me.
so why can't you?

and the mirror just cries and says
why can't I?

the boy looks up at his mother expectantly,
questioning his own role in the universe.

mother, he quietly asks, why did we come here?
she looks over at the small flower and smiles
because we want to say goodbye, she whispers

the boy does not hear this.
the boy does not know.
the boy only knows what is in front of him.

A flower and the grass.
The boy looks past and sees more flowers, and more grass.

the mother begins to weep.
the boy feels he is going to sleep.

the boy. the mother. the father.

and yet. the boy doesnt understand.

his father is dead, and his father before him is dead.
his mother is dead, and his mother before him is dead.

and he looks up at his weeping mother and realizes, she is smiling.
she looks down at him and he asks his mother, why are we here?

and the mother smiles and says once more

to say goodbye.

and the boy wakes up

What are you doing here? He gasped for air.

you should know. he gasped for air.

How did I get here? He gasped for air.

you should remember. he gasped for air.

You're not right. He gasped for air.

she deserves it. he gasped for air.

Stop it. He gasped for air.

i can't. he gasped for air.

You can.

she gasped for air.

you look pretty nice today
she said that there was a difference between a hero and a savior
but she never knew that i could be neither to her
i was but a mere fragment of a whole broken glass and at the same time she wanted to use me as a mirror to project her own image of who she was.

but at the same time i couldnt tell her no.

this is her story.

the boy drifts to sleep in hopes of a better tomorrow
the dreams he dreams
the stories he knows
the tales he weaves

comforting how he can sleep
comforting how he can dream
comforting how he can know

his mother knows not what else she can do but let him dream
let him sleep

she cannot let him know.

the woman cries tears of sorrow, yet triumph.

she cries the tears she sheds aren't hers to have but his.

she enters the room every night.

she looks up at the stars every night.

knowing he is asleep.

its okay she says to herself

Its okay says the stars

its okay says her heart

Its okay says the stars

its okay.

her child is dead.

but not to her.

her child is dead.

but not to the stars.

to them he is merely sleeping.

for an eternity.

immortalized in the stars.

taken away.

by the stars.

led on a chariot to the stars.

and yet she sees him there.
sleeping among the stars.

his dreams. to be among the stars.

and yet his grasp, never able to wrap around her pointing finger.

she cries the tears she sheds aren't hers to have but his.

she cries because she loved and was loved and has loved and yet

what pain is there without love, what love is there without pain.

her husband walks in and lays a hand on her shoulder,
and he cries.

he cries because he wasn't able to save her from the stars.

the reaching hand can only grasp what is in front of them,
never ahead.

and so he cries.

for now she sleeps in the stars.

she cries the tears she sheds aren't hers to have but His...