Desperate for fame, old heroes rode
into battle with mace, saber, spear,
whatever arms they had. In some
myths magic mattered, but
in our current deadly tale, we have
no sword pulled from a stone.

Our lungs inhale dreadful air and
life wares a tissue-thin carapace.
But better than a lone rider on a white horse--
no theme music, no white hats--
our masked heroes may save us,
armed with needles and magic potions.