Emma Fowler
Boy, you were built
to burn and to fly.
To run in the streets
and swing through the sky.
You’re a demon in red,
black framing the blood
you wipe from your hands
as you slip on the hood.
You run and you fight,
you snarl and you scream.
You build and you read,
you sing and you dream.
Those scars and those sneers
hide the secrets you hold.
You’re complex, a protector
to the core of your soul.