The hero's head was pounding
the world spinning
muted crowds of thousands chanted his name
and the villain lay at his feet.
he would've enjoyed it
he would've cheered with the newly freed masses
his tears might've been with joy instead of sadness
but he could not tear his eyes from the girl.
The girl in the front row
five, maybe six years, he thought.
her wrist was tightly enclosed by the hands of another
a gruff man who did not smile.
they weaved through the shifting crowd
and when the girl tried to pull away,
the hero could hear the fist hit her small face, even through the clapping.
The hero bolted to save the girl
but she was gone, a nameless face in the crowd.
it seemed the hero had saved the city,
but he could never save a single one