Unlike in fairy tales, young heroes die.
All the dazzling princes, strong men of might,
Robinhoods and Messiahs that never lie
Are done to death, Evil winning the fight.
Heroes are bled; not just deprived of life
God turns in his throne, the dead in cold graves
And perhaps death ends the lifetimes of strife.
Is slaughter the prize for not being slaves?
Brave men encounter blows, fight their case,
Leave forsaking the world they came to mend.
‘Youth may arise and fill this vacant space’
One faint hope; heroes reach the destined end.
Heroes get their Halos. Applause. Praise.
All glories shine brighter with sacrifice.
(First published in Kritya)