The fiend

On the darker side of the land

There lived a man known to be a fiend

He ventured only in the night

The world of day never caught his sight

Yet they feared him, loathed him and said

Stories of his acts of dread

They said this man hath no heart

He killed his love and worked dark art

They said he was cruel and mad and slim

He never talked, but they talked of him

He heard it all and let it pass

He let them be and made himself the outcast

He never loathed them nor knew of arts

All he knew was he once had a heart

He knew he could talk, the world wouldn't hear

For in their blood ran the venom of fear

The fang of the unknown had pierced their skin

They saw a fiend, never cared what lay within