Supergirl Takes a Day Off (Part 2)

It seems a shame that not one famous work of art
can hold my attention, but I can sit here in my sweatpants
on-the-verge-of-tears-laughing at dogs with eyebrows drawn on them.
The people on this planet who imagine they have
a heightened sense of things, their work seems... incomplete.
There is so much ego and too little attention to what's important.
The one artist whose work I can actually enjoy is Bryan Saunders.
This guy's done every drug imaginable and painted self portraits
under their influence. I tried LSD once.
My body processed the chemicals too quickly, but I felt
what could be called fear, if only for a moment.

Clark called and left a message on my machine. It must have been
while I considered the benefits of spending my small allowance
on Captain Morgan or the extra large jug of Carlos Rossi.
I wonder which side of the family he gets his need to be right from.
Clark never takes a day off. Even on his days off
he drags me to events he thinks will make me feel more compassionate
towards humans. Sometimes it does help, seeing them come together
to change the spirit of a neglected neighborhood with a public garden or
reading about charities that make a dying kid's wish come true.
But his sense of justice is too fairy tale for my taste.
I can't say he doesn't, that we don't, do good on this world
but you can't save everyone. And you can't stop the brutal things
that these creatures do to one another, to themselves.
It seems like the moment we intervened here
human nature itself began to change. The people we save
are beginning to look harder, twisted by their past,
something we can never save them from.
Clark and I have saved lives but I wonder
just what kind of lives do we send them back to.
Would Clark's sense of justice waver
if he saw one of his saved beat someone to death?
If one of his saved committed suicide, what then of right and wrong?
Not knowing how he'd answer, I deleted his message, sight unseen,
and picked up the receiver.