no more heroes

You walk slowly through the burning grass, your head held high, as if
as if it was just another death
(it never is)
as if there are no tears streaming down your face
as if you didn't see the look he gave you before falling down, a flash of green
(always so quick)
as if you didn't kill the only person that you ever truly loved.
You walk on, because you can still see the dark mark against his pale skin
(and can you still tell right from wrong?)
You walk on, because your heart would burst if you stopped.