Elite Born

He was young but darkened, elite born.
His face was smooth, his brow forlorn.
Eyes that darted to and fro.
A hint of fear began to show
Talking slowly, face closely shorn.

His voice was dark and serene.
He spoke in syllables of worlds unseen.
The fear he felt he passed along
Of evil lurking here and beyond.
What did he say? What does it mean?

He told his tales of twisted souls;
Seeking greed in night patrols.
Crowded round this man of grief,
We each saw visions beyond belief
Of a world gone mad, no one controls.

His hands were worn and shredded raw;
As if he fought and won or lost it all.
He wore a blazer of darkened wool;
Polished shoes that looked real cool,
As we stood and listened in awe.

His words were scary, full of fear.
We felt the evil was really near.
He painted a picture of torn out hearts
And blood drained from some private parts.
Our minds were frozen from these words severe.

We began to wonder who this man could be,
This man who walked and talked with no dignity.
He seemed to have been every place and yet,
His words were pure and innocent.
They came out wrong, full of criminality.

I asked him of his tales of violence,
Why he told them without evidence.
He stated loud for all to hear,
Twas not his job to be sincere.
The evidence comes from his pretense.

Now we all know this man was wrong.
He used his words to sing a song
Of liberal deeds that’ll dig our graves,
Or make us all his personal slaves.
Guess that’s what we get for going along.