There was a man
who did bad things.
The people called him
“The Bad Man”.
They say he murdered three—
He lives a land amongst the trees.
He steals broken souls of burden
and hangs them on the Hanging Tree—
Their bodies swaying,
Forbidden momentos,
Burns like fire,
The shadows called him
“The Bad Man”,
Though the bad
was never in his tired hands.

The wind carries screams
of stray memories,
crying to be free.
The Bad Man
who sees the tragic flourish
Dark magic in the midnight of the
Hanging Tree…

The Dead echos the bad,
chopping the heart into pieces
with the Hunter’s sharp axe,
bleeding into the stitched
fabric of stolen trust—
From one who once stood by him to protect.
Now lost in the woods of neglect.

The people called him
“The Bad Man”,
Though he’s trapped—
Lost in the decay paths of the betrayed,
Forever In the Hunter’s Bird Cage.