Irony

We all make a promise at the age of good triumphs over evil heroes principles to always stand fast on the side of the righteous no matter what. my beliefs were identical to any child's reading Nancy Drew frequenting G-rated movies good will forever be good no gray areas exist no money no power no earthly desires in my heart block my path. the body count was about five I realized what I was doing violated the very ideas I had of how a person should be. the past hour flitting around the yard heart light, untroubled was wrong. my seven-year-old-hands stuttered while shoving my defenseless victims into a mason jar in cold blood without even punching holes in the lid their cold, dim bodies scattered at the bottom like they didn't matter like their tiny lights didn't bring the world any joy at all not the smallest amount of magic my fireflies wasted, frozen never to see another sunset at that moment in disgust I stared at my hands so much like those of a monster not a hero after all.