My Superhero

My Superhero

The world is full of superheros.

Superman, Batman, Captain America, Hawk-eye, and so many more.

But, why can't I be one?

When I was little I would run around the house,

with a cape tied around my neck, a mask strapped on my face, and my head in the clouds.

"When I grow up I want to save the world." I'd say.

The world told me I couldn't be anything, wouldn't be anything.

My Papa told me I was his hero,

my grandma said I saved her from the past.

I stare at the billboards, wondering when my name will show up,

in big, bright, blood red letters.

Letting the whole world know, that I am here, I am important, and I do matter.

Maybe to you I'm the broken glass you step on after the Hulk breaks through a window.

But, to someone upstairs I am what deletes His kryptonite.

He holds me and tells me He loves me, 

kisses my cheeks where my tears dry,

bandages my wounds from the hate of the world.
He is my superhero, the healer of my dreams,
the only one who really knows what it's like,
to be stomped on and crushed under the weight of this cruel world we live in.
I don't need to be strong or brave or even wear a cape to save the day .
Because the one who gently rubs my hand when I cry,
whispers in my ear that all I need is Him,
to be a superhero.