To the striking hero

To the striking hero:

Blood and nonsense!

Time ticks and you inquire,
With deviled chin.

So the forked beard states,
With angered mascara eyes.

Pull your bow.
A tense reminder,
Of mendicant adrenaline.

Watch the storm troopers
Who garrison,
On dying suburban lawns,
Awaiting orders,
Boots crunching gravel,
Conjuring cowardice,
With bulging magazines.

What choice have you, hero?
State your purpose,
And be falsely hailed.