A Beacon

In the silence of his solitary roam,  

A man walks heavy, the world no longer home.  

"Monster," he whispered, in self-contempt,  

For letting the world’s gaze his essence preempt.  

But as the shroud lifted, what did he see?  

Not a realm of light, but dark deceit.

He sought a pure heart, a soul so bright,  

Yet found shadows, not stars, in the endless night.  

Deceivers in cloaks, with smiles so wide,  

Took from his pocket, stood by his side.  

They stole his bread, his coat, his cheer,  

And from his chest, the love that was dear.

In the world's cruel play, he thought himself wrong,  

An outcast, a monster, where he didn't belong.  

Yet, amidst the darkness, the lies, the theft,  

He found the true monsters were those who had left  

A trail of deceit, a path so stark—  

And realized his light was a lone, brave spark.

In rhyme and rhythm, his truth unfolds,  

A tale of courage, as his heart holds.  

Not the monster he feared, but humanity’s face  

Revealed in the mirror, a challenging grace.  

In the quest for the good, the pure, the right,  

He stands alone, a beacon in the night.