A/N
I own nothing,
but a rhyme or two.
I don't earn money,
I write for myself
and, dear reader,
You.
Always there,
Lingering between the lines,
Breathing same air
As the heroes divine.
Underestimated, never trully alive,
He lives for others,
Prepared to die anytime.
Working from the shadows,
His home,
With and without promisess and vows,
He's facing the Evil alone.
We can think he's evil,
For his first appareance was suspicious,
Always painful to deal with,
Sometimes even vicious.
And still he's there,
Pulling the strings.
When the heroes are falling,
He gives them wings.
Though his part might seem small,
Maybe he looks useless,
Nothing at all,
But without him it wouldn't be the same.
The tables would turn,
Heroes would loose their ways.
Though always offering his hand,
Helping the justice come to life,
His life quickly ended.
He got murdered, forsaken...
And the readers heart is aching...