The Bully

In the quivering clasp of his fragile hands, Lies the detonator, bearer of fate's demands, A million souls ensnared in its command, If only he'd glimpse the abyss he'd planned.

Once, a radiant mind, now ensnared, By shadows of torment, relentless and bared, A brilliance once ablaze, now by anguish scarred, In vengeance's grip, his soul ensnared.

Battered and bruised, he longs to reclaim, The brilliance dimmed, to dominate, to maim, In a pact with darkness, he invokes hell's flame, Unleashing destruction, a merciless game.

Lost in the twilight of right and wrong, A prodigy of agony, to sorrow he's thronged, By tormentors' hands, his brilliance long gone, In darkness he dwells, bereft of song.

Above, perhaps, a plea, a silent decree, To halt his descent into oblivion's decree, But society's apathy, a deafening spree, Leaves him adrift in a sea of misery.

Innocent lives, mere pawns in his scheme, Their purity forgotten in his vengeful dream, The bullies' legacy, an inferno, agleam, As he ascends to power on destruction's gleam.

At the final moment, the button's pressed, A sinister smile upon his lips, confessed, In his shattered world, he feels blessed, To wield the weapon, with ruthless zest. Now the bully, his brilliance twisted, distressed.

This tale of terror, of vengeance, and plight, Resounds through time with its somber might, A warning to break the chains of night, And usher in a dawn, where justice alights.