A Pome a Day for a Year

Trevor screeching furiously in a busy bank, 
holding a puppy hostage and demanding money.
Unimpressed side-eyes and eye rolls abound,
From the ignorance of the public.

“I will do it, you fiends!!!” He cries,
hands shaking, robotic legs juddering under pressure.

“Whatever, Trevor,” the clerk grunts dimissively.

Trevor stains the floor with his tears
and lets the nonplussed puppy to the ground,
it bounding away to the break room
to steal all the cheese.

Trevor shuffles, legs whirring and clicking,
armour shining with shame,
fake gun left in a pile of wet sadness.

“I am a super villain,” he mumbles,

Is he convincing the world or himself?

Elderly cop of 68 years glancing,
“Sure you are, sonny,” he wheezes,
laughing daggers into Trevor’s heart.

Trevor Stains’ drawing board
full to the brim with prints of blue
and ideas of world destruction
and a receipt for a pizza.