Sometimes I would like to be a hero-
Clean-handed, showing up,
averting eyes while all the villains
fall on their own swords.

(After I stare morbidly
while my beloved bargaining chips cry.)

I would get all the credit, despite never accepting it-
Vulnerable to my enemies, impenetrable to my friends,
like I really did have a death wish for a messiah complex.

They would call me special, and I would agree,
so no one would truly challenge me inside my 2-D fantasy.

Then, I think I’ll stay the villain, for the thread through fact
and fiction is music,

and surely it is not the worst of lives
with the best of songs.