At the end of every story,

A lesson must be learned.

A hero will be rewarded,

An honor shall be earned.

But what of us in reality,

With pens instead of swords?

When our battles are fought

With shiny screens and keyboards?

How will be protect ourself,

When ourself is the one to blame?

When all our hero's are fiction,

And part of some video game?

Is our time now over

pointless to try to win?

We may be just as helpless

from whence we did begin.

We hear of sad stories

from all across the world,

then turn to  our prior duties,

their problems away from us we hurled.

I'm sad to say the end is here,

but not as to how we thought.

Maybe our ancestors battles,

were not fought for nought.

I hope we can regain

the power we once lost

and wipe away our windsheilds,

once fogged over with frost.