My mother says

not all superheros wear capes.

Some wear armour shields and some uniforms.

But what they all wear in common is braveness.

Somedays she would caress

my hair back and call me her hero

even though

I couldn't even save myself.

Believe me I tried.

I tried my best to be tough

but I don't understand how much brave

is enough?

I tried so hard that I built an armour around me.

I tried so hard that I summoned all the swords from the hollows of my insides

and built an army.

I tried so hard but living with myself was a lost war.

I tried so hard but my body

became a graveyard of a broken somebody.

Of broken so many things.

Of the two hundred and six

broken bones that I couldn't fix

buried under my skin.

Of broken heart and choking lymphs.

Of broken wings.

Of memories of him.

Of my clavicle that broke like a fragile branch in a wild wind

of his breath when he kissed it.

Of a broken wrist which fell in love with a knife

but it killed it.

Of broken knuckles that fought constantly.

Of broken ankles that tried to run away from reality.

I tried.

I tried so hard

but I was so alone

with my army gone

I didn't have anyone to haunt

but me.

I tried to tell her

that most soldiers

have the kind of wound that doesn't heal.

I tried to tell her

that some armour shields

come back home empty

from their battlefields.