You wanted me quiet, the background hum to your spotlight. Every line rehearsed, every smile on schedule. But the mirror cracked — and I like the shape it made. I see the cracks in your frame, the hero’s mask slipping slow. You built your throne on my silence, but I don’t kneel anymore. I’m not your hero, not your cure. I won’t carry your storm like it’s mine to endure. You built your story around me — but I’ve left the page. I’m not your hero, not today. I found my volume, and it’s not tuned to you. My quiet is louder than your applause ever was. Don’t look for me in your old reflection — I walked out of that frame. I won’t wear your crown, it never fit me anyway. Your kingdom fades when I stop believing in it. I’m not your hero, not your dream. I’m not the mirror you need me to be. I’m not your hero — and that’s my victory. It feels strange, breathing without your shadow. But I’m still here, and the world didn’t end. Turn the volume up — this is my sound now. I’m not your hero! Not your savior, not your name! I’m not your hero — I’m finally mine again! I’m not your hero!
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