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.
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