A/N:
To those of you that may be sitting on the fence, I just want to make very clear the fact that Snape garners nothing except my absolute reverence- this poem is written from a realistic and objective viewpoint, based on the emulations the book character provided. My only opinion about him can be found in the bottommost passage, where the last line dubs him as a 'hero.' In anywhere else where the reverence appears to be lacking (including the rather misleading title), because of the objective way in which facts about his character were interpreted. Snape happens to be the unlucky generator of some of my darker thoughts, which I can't help but to write down because I find them moving. Please do not think otherwise. Thank you so much for your continuing support.
Everybody's Fool
Overgrown sweeping bat is he,
a haughty book picture,
Everybody's Fool to look upon,
is to see a house without lighted windows,
cold cauldrons swirling empty.
Gliding aura of mystique, darkness, and power,
he savors this portrait of worldly display,
puts it on a shelf to awe and mesmerize,
forevermore a mask to those who seek him.
Solitaire is but a savage pleasure,
all actions thus riddled.
Clever snake known best by those who're distant,
least of all by friends.
Prideful, powerful, and aloof,
his terrain lies a difficult bearer of airs and challenge.
Minds confuse and cloud the wearer,
those secrets most jealously guarded are those we love the most,
from the small boy who once cried in the corner as his parents fought,
grows a product of the past and bitter resentment.
Seriously misunderstood creature is he,
a seeming stranger to emotion.
Weak because he cannot outlive the past,
yet the strongest because he cares so much.
There is no one completely good or evil,
we all have a little of both.
The Prince of Fools is merely a reminder of our own flaws,
the mark of humanity we must bear.
Long suffering is he until his death,
when all his secrets lie unmasked.
Now we see the crying little boy anew,
a man weeping quietly in the dark with regrets.
The unparalleled bravery, past behind those cold
cauldrons broken, and understanding revealed.
There is nothing to fear in death,
for there is no heartache, catcalling, or jeering.
Everybody's Fool finds his best friend here,
for he is at last bearer of the respect long due him.
He is no longer a stranger to his own person,
or those sacrifices made for his deepest cares.
Behind the pallid figure, face that was once such a blank wall,
there is now revelation, a man of strength, and contribution.
Thus as the shutters close for the last time on the light,
he dies peacefully, knowing that his work will not go unnoticed.
Little does he know what has crept unbidden out of the ashes,
and that for now, and ever more, he will now be seen, a hero.
A/N:
If any of you find this poem cryptic please let me know. I have provided footnotes for another one I wrote which a reader found difficult to interpret, an upon request I have no scruples in doing so for this one as well. My readers and their input are very important to me so you need only ask. Thanks again!