It hunts by night,
Yet even in the light of day it preys upon them.
Lurking, just out of reach.
In crevices deep and corners long forgotten.
Old ones, young ones, middle aged ones,
All shackled with chains of fears.
For the beast walks among them,
There, cavorting freely in their dreams.
Within its hands it clutches,
Their hearts, their minds, their very souls,
All the while, relishing their destruction.
Many are the faces of this beast,
And its weapons are varied and fierce.
Throughout time the beast has stalked them,
And it shall prey on them till the end.
Yet still, they always carry a weapon,
Forever ready at their sides,
In the face of which, the beast called hate must fall.
Friends, the name of that weapons is LOVE.