Burden after burden,
Piled on his shoulders,
No plan, no order,
And only chaos
is lost in his mind.
Ticks by slowly
Runs like a monster
Trying to chase him,
And people tell him their problems,
All the voices
And everything he heard
He took from them,
He took their heartache away,
He took their pain,
All of it
Put into the pocket that was his mind,
Made it his own,
But they did not grow,
They became his experiences
Because of the advice he would give,
He didn’t let them think it through,
They only did what he said.
He was trying to be a hero,
By taking their burdens away from them,
But sometimes the world needs someone different,
There are others in this world that needed to stand up,
So he fell to the ground to be human just for a moment,
And let the others live their own lives,
And they did,
So there he sits
On that park bench,
No longer giving advice,
No longer taking things and making their stories his own,
Still sitting all alone,
He watches the birds quietly on the bench of stone,
And listens to the stories but doesn’t reiterate anything.
“The park is a nice place to be.
Quiet and peaceful,” he said
As he looked up at the sky,
Searching for the heroes that he did not create,
But that he let grow by themselves instead.