I cannot be your hero. Your heroes must be people that pick themselves up quicker than they get knocked down. People that show no damage to strength or spirit after they get hit. People that shine a smile, and wave to the crowds long before anyone has had time for doubts.

I cannot be your hero. I run and soar, and I crash and burn, and I fall and hide. Your heroes mustn’t burn or hide. I hide. And my hideout’s a cozy place that I now know well. It allows me time to build back my spine. And time to paint my wings anew before I come out and take another flight.