What's Behind The Faces In The Crowd?

Always a smart one,

yet not in a good way.

Different and special,

most people would say.

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Born of pain rather than of love,

growing up a lonesome one.

A loner from day one, that broken dove,

walked the world, loved by none.

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Different, not special, not that anyone knew,

feeling all the pangs of hate and fear.

Nothing was good in a world so unbelievably blue,

and nothing ever changed, not even when there were two.

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In the confusion of times, he knew not why he felt that way,

the fears growing inside a mystery he tried to hide.

That fear ate at him from youth, ate at his soul each day,

fear of its' strength sent him home where he hid and cried.

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A coward he was not,

it was not because of him.

Souls fill with rot,

especially when you're the victim.

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It was the secrets that nobody could tell,

the horrors that he saw.

That boy that grew to man belonged in hell,

he just waited for his own fall.

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Fighting the urges that took over his soul,

the poor boy fought, and fought, and fought till he fell.

He fought the urges like the warriors of ole,

fighting to keep from dragging an innocent soul into hell.

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Anger and rage always etched on his face,

it was the darkness he dwelled within.

For all those that judged him, this was his happy place,

happiest within that dark and evil space.

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He would live by the gun, never to die by the sword,

he survived and thrived with nary a word.

The child was, and always shall be the demon from the deep,

the one to venture into the darkness, and protect you in your sleep.

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For when the darkness comes the world needs and certain kind,

a special, loner, a doer with an evil mind.

The mind of the monster is what it takes tonight,

because it is the mind of the monster we need to take up the fight.

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When you see him on the street and you're afraid to meet

just nod your heads and continue looking to your feet.

He needs no thank you's or gratitude for the things that he does

because, in the end, you'll barely remember the man or the child he was.

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He'll hold the line between good and evil, never losing a battle,

even as he watches those that judged him walk around him like cattle.

He is the line, the spot between worlds, the walker between light and dark,

that is the apex predator, the animal, the great white shark.

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To those that hunt him, to the ones who wish him harm,

you might have remembered him earlier before all the alarm.

If you've run afoul of this one, the demon of the night,

then you truly belong at home, suffering from all that fright.