Under the stars
In the dewy field of green
In the light of Mars
The lights of heaven could be seen

Trickling through the sky
Like a punctured sheet of black
When the weary traveler came to lie
In the old abandoned shack.

He had run for eighteen years
On a never-ending quest.
Falling to his knees, tears
Began to drop onto his breast.

He was hated by most
But also loved by some.
He was haunted by the ghosts
Of everything he’d done.

He could no longer maraud
And so he could not stay.
He soon became outlawed
And so he ran away.

Relief was something near
And soon he’d come to rest.
He could pacify his fear
And become heaven blessed.

He raged and wept and prayed
But alas! to no avail;
For that abandoned glade
Proved to be his jail

Away from retribution;
He could no longer be saved.
The road to execution
Was one already paved.

He was a man so pure of heart
But so horribly misguided.
He just wanted to restart,
So in God he confided.

He went into the void,
The nothingness within.
He found an angel he employed
To purge him of his sin.

But while he prayed to God,
His family cried and went to bed.
For his soul, demons had clawed,
And so his spirit bled.

He died alone and broken,
His legacy a disgrace.
His story went unspoken
And now he’s gone, leaving no trace.