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Mr E Oct 2015
He sat on the sidelines and waited
Watching the people go by
Neither was he loved nor was he hated
But only a quaint passerby
From where he was he saw all that happened
But said nothing all the same
He was an onlooker who always looked onward
Quietly from the stands cheering on the game
Mr E Sep 2015
Sunlight looked kindly down upon him
Looking so peaceful, up on that tree
And though his once vibrant colors now dim
From that branch he was finally free
As gentle wind swayed
With his hair did it play-
that sweet boy that now hung on that tree.
But how ironic was this,
There would be no bliss,
When picked, there would be no glee.
Mr E Sep 2015
We all confine ourselves sometimes
With the busy work of normalcy
Or the quietness of everyday
As we go about our lives
For what seems so far away
To pretend for even a little while
That back at home we lay
Mr E Aug 2015
I believe that evil comes about when man is hurt
A type of hurt that burrows far beneath the skin
And straight into the heart.
As anyone knows, when a man is cast out
He will do anything to prove himself to those who hate him
Perhaps that is where the greatest of evil men came from
At what point was such a deep hurt cast upon them
That broke them to a point of proving themselves again
From there, that anger would bubble into vengeance
Vengeance to violence, violence to the ends of all those he wished to prove himself to from the beginning.
An evil man is a broken man
Broken from the moment he accepted he would never be held
Accepted he would rather be feared than loved
Because from that same fear, that is where he had found his strength
For that is all he ever knows
Driven on by the coals of his own self deceit
This once broken man stitches the parts of himself together again
And from the ruins of his own soul he pours his cruelty and madness
Madness to force the world to accept him as he creates his own role
Uncaring, he grows numb toward the death
The destruction he causes becomes his creations
Because those who broke him never let him believe
That his hands could ever conjure something great
So he brings his wrath upon them instead
And dies a little more inside every day
Possibly without knowing it any longer
That he became the very thing he hated most
And like any evil man
His actions must be accounted for
Because though he had been broken and battered to the floor
It was he who let himself sink below and let anger fester
Feeding the demons that nipped at his ankles
Perhaps he is as guilty as the doubters of his gifts
Perhaps the world creates these men for a reason
To show the people just how dark it can truly be
Mr E Aug 2015
We came to the fork dividing the paths
And as the sun shined through the wooded sky
With the breeze brushing soft strings
We stood still
Farther along observing our own roads
Though the ends were shrouded
They twisted and snaked along
Some rocky
Others small, narrow
But to all they were right
Right where they belonged
And though they looked long
We knew somewhere along those trails
However rugged they may be
We would surely cross paths again
And as we stood against the setting sun
The warmth of memories swirled again within us
Keeping us warm for the journey to come
Together looking back, one last time
Seeing the road we had traveled long
Our footsteps marked the sands
We remembered where we fell
Where we stumbled
But here we all were in the end
Readying ourselves for another adventure
I gripped what I had upon my back
And with our treasures we had all discovered in tow
We had our parting words
And left smiling
Mr E Jun 2015
Many argue, the ways of good must be adorned
Upheld and carried out
There is always place for love or forgiveness  
The earth too small for anguish, burning
But alas, they are deceived
For how would man know what evil is
If good need not exist?
For who would villains fight?
For what would they fight for
If no one opposes?
There shall always be good
As long as there is perspective
As long as there is man
The constant battle shall continue
There is no end
No end to this madness
Mr E Jun 2015
Many argue, the ways of evil must be washed
Away and smothered out
There is no place for malice or hate
The earth too small for anguish, burning
But alas, they are deceived
For how would man know what good is
If evil need not exist?
For who would heroes fight?
For what would they fight for
If no one opposes?
There shall always be evil
As long as there is perspective
As long as there is man
The constant battle shall continue
There is no end
No end to this madness
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