Poem #40

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On the surface, he appears human, so calm and serene
But deep within, there's a beast that can't be seen
A hellhound, they call him, with an infernal fire
Burning within, consuming his every desire

He walks among us, disguised by his human guise
But his eyes, oh his eyes, they hold a devilish surprise
For when he's provoked, his true form is revealed
A creature of darkness, with a heart that's steel

His howls can shatter glass and make the earth shake
His claws can tear through flesh, leaving a bloody wake
He's a hunter, a predator, with a thirst for blood
His victims, mere mortals, dragged through the mud

He's a creation of our own, born from rage and hate
A product of a world that's filled with such weight
His existence, a reminder of our own inner demons
A reflection of our sins, our flaws, and our reasons

But even in his monstrous form, there's a hint of humanity
A glimmer of a soul that's fighting for its sanity
For deep down, he's just a lost and broken soul
Trapped in a human hell, with no way to console

So we fear him, we shun him, we call him a curse
But we fail to see the pain that's making him worse
For he's not just a hellhound, he's a reflection of us all
A reminder that in our own darkness, we can still stand tall

So let us not judge him, for he's just a tragic being
A human hellhound, with a heart that's still beating
And maybe, just maybe, with love and understanding
We can tame the beast, and find our own inner standing.

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