“He never goes out to play,”
That’s what everybody did say,
He simply sits up in his room.
Doing what? I do not know.
I say nothing I want no roe,”
That’s what his mother did say.
I knew that fellow long and good
-That’s what I thought like everyone else
For when the boy in front of us stood
We could not see what was in his head
He spoke so little, seldom smiled,
But, that was all for us you see,
For he longed by himself to be,
In his dingy room upstairs,
Far away from our knowing glares,
By himself and by that shelf,.
Where lay his treasure of comic books
Each night when his door was shut,
Awoke a world of neon lights,
Where heroes did their villains fight,
Some to save their own face,
Others to salvage the human race.
Those comic books were spells for gold,
Or something more colourful and bold.
A world full of tales untold,
That needs solitude to unfold.
Heroes with hoods and masks,
To hide their vulnerable faces while,
They go about unearthly tasks.
Pages full of muscular sketches,
Full moon nights and city lights,
Spider bites that give magical powers,
Enchant you into manly fights.
In disguise you’ll scale the towers,
Ordinary men turn into spies,
Love women and travel skies,
Take on beasts and lawless men,
At a time they take on ten.
And under their skin tight suit,
Lies a heart hurt and bruised.
As those busy pages turned,
Quietly the little boy learned,
To see the world that never was,
To see his troubles, with pretty gloss.
How schools and games never teach,
That level of trance some do reach,
By reading those very books,
That get from teachers dirty looks.
The wise would give a hundred years,
To see what that boy did see,
A world where everyone is free,
A world in which we long to be.