*Untitled*

The moon shone pale above-
The cold night was comforting to the young man.
Walking down the bare sidewalk,
each deep breath very visible.
The man had a mission.
His mission is a secret to the world-
I can not reveal his thoughts to you.
I can only assure you that he is not a man of:
deep love;
but of bitter infatuation.
not of utter apathy;
but of intense pain.
not of peace;
but of tragic wars.
Hate is his passion.
Pure hate.
~*~
His goal shall not be easy to accomplish,
No mission left undone.
He set out on his journey . . .
To win over but just one.