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I didn't write this poem but is hugely applies to my life. Like when I read it I though "Holy **** this was written for me."





Your Superman is Dead

Johnny J Smith
had straight A's in school.
Class president every year
he never broke the rules.

Had the coolest friends
never got in fights.
But his friends never saw him
after school at night.

Every problem thrown his way
he fought it to the end.
His family and friends
nicknamed him superman.

Saving damsels in distress
standing up for the weak.
He had the intelligence of a genius
the room always quite when he'd speak.

But nobody knew what happened
late every single night.
When Johnny was caught in the middle
of his mother and father's fight.

Every day after school
Johnny would walk home alone.
Come home to his parents,
to a family with a heart of stone.

Objects were thrown
as they fly across his face.
He tried so hard to please
but he was seen as a disgrace.

His grades would start to slip
and he would fight even more.
But the more that he fought
the harder he was thrown to the floor.

Friends began to leave him
people ignored him as he spoke
as hard as he tried to fix it all
his life was only seen as a joke.

Bottles and knives still flying
from one room to the next.
Giving up on everything else
he took advantage of one object.

He slowly cried as the pain took hold
remembering the life once adored.
Brought down to this hopeless sham
a life now only ignored.

With his last remaining minute
he reached for a paper and pen.
Leaving a note for whoever cared
or cared for a life that had been.

Days had past since then
before he was found
his parents killed each other
the house no longer made a sound.

Old friends came again
to see the horrible site
No soon after did they find the note
that the young boy did write.

Everyone held their breath
as the note was slowly read.
Written with four crimson words
"Your Superman is Dead."


(C) 2006 Bryce Dressler

my poems aren't about death and whatnot?
well one is, but still!

you don't even know me gonk