Why couldn’t he be like those cartoon heroes

That they’d watch together on Saturday mornings

Who hid that impenetrable S behind a suit jacket

Or keep nifty gadgets in a bright, yellow belt

 

Why couldn’t he a hero from Japan

That could create a blaze of blue fire between his fingertips

Who shouted out outrageous commands ka me…

Before he released the destruction from the palms of his hands

 

Why couldn’t he be a ranger of justice

Who transformed with a morpher and coin

Who knew all sorts of martial arts

And called on prehistoric robots that created something mega

 

Why couldn’t he be like the 8-bit heroes

Who could touch a flower and burn things to a crisp

Who could grab a leaf and fly high into the sky

Who could jump on a turtle use its shell as a weapon

 

Instead

 

He’s breathing out his last life

Wondering why

He couldn’t be any of those heroes

Who would never leave her behind

***

Notes:  Urm… yeah, I’ve been thinking about my big brother lately and this is what came out of that.  I’ve written something like this before quite some time ago, but from my point of view, not his.  So… here?