Sorry this message finds you late, lost in doubts;
Like a lingering letter left at the lake house.
From your former self, the one you put on the shelf,
With faded red capes and some wooden staves;
Comics gathering dust, imaginary bat caves.
You’ve built spaceships and castles in the sky.
Now you’re more concerned with your piece of the pie.
You abandoned those vigilante dreams and energizing themes.
No more crime-fighting schemes. You left that scene.

You needn’t necessarily navigate the night,
Neutralizing the nefarious, loving the fight.
Not too many problems are solved with a fist.
When they are men in suits like Wilson Fisk.
But that fire for justice can’t be extinguished,
Even when taking on enemies more distinguished.
Don’t allow life to plunder the remains of your childlike wonder.
Your courage’s intact, don’t go under, run towards the thunder!

I’ll be here for you when you get the time…

But I’ve been waiting since ‘99, when I wrote this last line.

(Style score 68%)