I looked straight into his eyes; that same old expressionless stare.

But if you look deep enough, you can see a cruel intelligence there.

The eyes hold everything a person is capable

And conceals the most horrendous, most brilliant things about us.

He hums a joyful tune, believing he is right.

He will fight,

            He will win,

                        He will find sleep at night

                                    Until the day the heroes come.

                        And fight for their home, their peace, and loved ones.

            They don’t give up until it’s done;

Until he’s finished, and they have won.

There is no sadder story than a hero turned bad

By the hand of his past.

Of good deeds, his burdened back,

When the people he saves fail to save him

And his mind snaps back from the brink of the brim.

He is rejected in spite of all his good deeds,

He’s saved the wrong crowd, the one he doesn’t need,

Though they need him, the worst he can be.

Rejection and hatred, and knowledge of good,

The most fanatic villain that anything could           

And once he’s gone, he’s gone for good.

While his memory and history shall haunt them, it should.