She was a hero
born out of fire
and living in hell
with a heart of stone
and a fist of iron
she became a legend to tell
She was brave a few
and fought all evil forces
she stroke us with fear
and so she frightened her enemies
And here she is
alive, but scarred of life
driven to madness of the suppressed fears
hanging in there – trying to stay sane
but she will never be a hero again
She looks out her window
the weather is gray
“I wonder what’s in the mailbox today?”
She shakes her head
and thinks about the times
When life needed living
and rhythm needed rhymes
She was born to be a hero
And she is dying to die
just like everybody else
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