The tragic hero

I've traveled lengths of a hundred baseball fields only to find I haven't moved from the spot where you left me. At night, after falling stars hide their faces from my eyes, I like to play blind, as shadows pull shapes.

I am the self-proclaimed ill-fated child who stops northern winds with her bare chest and pounces the world from behind, after it stomps her and starts running away. I am the daughter of many tragedies and the grandchild of a hero.

I miss the shelter you used to embrace me with.