You know how you often look up
To people who are brave,
And standing all bright and erect?
How you often think if you’d ever
Be like them?
Myriads of youngsters imbibing the
Inspiration you radiate,
Looking up to you.
But do you ever think about
The way they feel?
Do they know what they are,
Do they live up to their fame?
Does a brave hero know she’s brave?
And does she feel any different from you?
Getting up in the morning,
Does she think: Today, I’m gonna
Crash monsters, free peasants
And be crowned a queen by dusk?
Or does she, perhaps, go reluctantly
Out of bed
And straight to coffee
Brooding sullenly on what’s to come
And not feeling like doing it,
For, perhaps, she prefers to
Just lie down with her book
And read about the brave
Instead of acting it?
Still, someone has to save the day,