The fallen hero

Why am I so lonely? Why can't there be someone like me?
Who do I relate to? Who can I pretend to be?
I bath in the gutter for all the world to see
and even then, nobody seem to care at all about me...

An angel they called me as I soared down,
an avatar of the gods they yelled with pride and joy.
In the great wars they called me a war machine, a juggernaut; virtually unstoppable.
I battled all the legendary heroes and warlords. Achilles, Attila, Thor and Kahn to name a few.
I fought the four knights,
not many times has one being been the stone that tips the scales for world balance
instead of apocalypse.
I cursed the evil and sent ash and blood, I split the red sea for the pitied people to pass.
A god they prayed for, instead there was me and I was merely a lonely man who wanted to help.
They wrote stories about me, about things I did and about things I didn't do.

Not long ago they called me a super hero.
The people they cheered for me, shouted my name,
and I felt that I made a difference in their lives.
They started to create super-villains,
had the normal people caught up with me?
Scarecrow was put in a mental hospital,
Cutter Jones became consumed by his own bloodlust.
I stood up for them, the normal people,
and they hated me for it.
Isn't there any room to be special,
does everyone has to be the same?
I know I'm different and that's why I ended up here.
I have tried to love so many times, I have tried to cherish the people around me.
Every time I get disappointed.
Those who are good die early,
and those who are bad, rips out pieces of me.
I've had enough with people and will remain here until I forget I exist.
They can manage on their own. No one needs me.