A murderer of men,

A bearer of the grim.

What manner of plight,

Did he swear within?

An angel of darkness,

A spirit who dwells,

In the earthly realm,

Of internal Hell.

Where can you find him?

He, with a goblet of pain,

Filled to the brim.

He lives within,

All fallen tears,

In every sin,

Every crime and fear.

You can find him in,

The hues of gloom.

In every sentiment,

That stifles joy's bloom.

This cursed being,

This wretched wraith.

A shadow unseen,

Who lost his faith.

Look upon his face,

Do you even dare?

No horror can replace,

What tragedy lies there.

Mangled and maimed,

Rotten and twisted,

His ugliness famed.

No one ever thought,

That behind the face,

A person existed.

Known as a death's head,

A monster that frightens,

Small children in bed.

The eyes of the world,

Had judged and proclaimed,

"That beast of a man

Is rough and untamed!"

His life was demolished,

His pleasure has gone.

No grace is bestowed,

On this black swan.

Humanity stole,

His key to life.

Tortured his soul,

With the devil's knife.

They sneered and mocked,

And laughed with glee,

As they ignored,

His despondent pleas.

Why so forsaken?

Why so denied?

This man who staggers,

In sorrow's callous stride.

He was cast from the world,

His soul bound and tied.

They left him to perish,

In seclusion's firm grip.

The loneliness and hate,

Slashed him like a whip.

Was it his genius?

Was it his face?

Can a pariah,

Ever find his place?

He pleads and,

Calls into the night.

Dejected, alone,

And out of sight.

The wind echoing,

His woeful cry,

Gasping and blowing,

With a voice rasp and dry,

Their accord disturbs,

The night's constant beat.

The nightmares arouse,

Like tigers sensing meat.

The two sing their duet,

'Till the stars in the sky,

Shudder and tremble,

And sparkle awry.

Then the allies return,

Back to their silence,

To battle and rage with,

Their inner violence.

In his Underworld,

He hoped and dreamed,

That his angel from heaven,

Would become his queen.

His angel, his savior,

His destined wife,

Left him and plunged,

In the fatal knife.

Shattered in pieces,

His sanity lay.

His broken heart bleeding.

Rejected, abandoned,

Hated, and betrayed.

His wings that once,

Had let him fly,

Wither away,

In torment and die.

No tears will come,

For him to cry.

In a grave of anguish,

His carcass must lie.

Within night's footsteps,

He makes his way.

Stumbling and falling,

Through the void astray.

Shrouded in ebony,

He commits his deeds.

With vengeance, with anger,

To sustain his needs.

His fury at the world,

Swells each passing day.

He watches and waits,

And hunts his prey.

How can we decide,

What tears of emotion,

Should be shed and cried?

Should they be pity?

Should they be hate?

For a soul like his,

Tears come too late.