A Bad Man With Good Intentions

Copyrighted@robmason2012

 

He stood there sheltered and out of the wind. The overhang of the building kept him dry as a hard autumn rain pounded the streets with no signs of letting up. With one full bag and one empty heart he bided his time waiting for his chance to be reborn. And he understood the irony of a rebirthing that would finally define and then claim his life. The streets were empty except for a few cars passing but no one paid him any notice. He blended with the night. He blended with the darkness. He embraced the loneliness and he preferred it that way. He touched no one except for maybe that one. He could never be sure. But she was out of his reach now. Or perhaps, he was out of hers. And when he stopped wondering long ago it defined a man thankful for both

The shrill of a blowing whistle caught his attention and he turned towards it in anticipation. A false alarm as it was not yet his turn. The night seemed to be getting longer while his days felt only more numbered than ever. A bad man with good intentions is a man who craves to crawl out of his own skin. And these cravings were now more than just creeping! He wanted something more while feeling that he was deserving of less. Such a man who dreams for fields of gold and green is surely a man who dreams in desperation. He revised his dreams when revising his life. Defining success when accepting pain, his loneliness was his crowning achievement. He knew his fate and he knew his true self. He was born to hurt and was determined that it would never again be shared. He would better himself this night when he left behind the one he loved. His loss would be her opportunity. Her chance for love would be his selfless act. He loved her more than life itself. He loved her and so he let her go.

The raindrops became a blur as he drift to places and traces of another time. It was as if he had strayed into a dream but one where he always knew how it ended. It always ended and always the same. The night became a portal for reliving every past mistake of his life and each moment seemingly fresh in his mind. One last time and hopefully for the last time, he relived each and every regret. The wounds still stinging and the scars still reminding and there stood a man wondering if any amends would ever be within his grasp. It was a fleeting hope but he hoped that leaving would be a step in the right direction. Nearer to the end a man yearns to leave behind a legacy. When realizing that he will leave nothing that defines honour and valour, he feels caged in a trap of his own doing. There is no reprieve save that of returning to where it all began with hope that it may bring comfort to an end.

Much like his internal struggles, the rain refused to relent. Soon, he would step from his comforting cover and brave the elements for a greater good. He didn’t mind the rain as a man who feels washed up never does. He didn’t mind the cold as a man who lives cold hearted never does. Many seasons had passed on while life passed over him and evolving a man defining indifference. Yet, there was still a remnant of what he once was. But it was fading fast. He decided that before what he is finally destroyed the remnants of a man he once knew that this pain would never again be shared. His new beginning could have been felt as his year of hope but he knew in his heart it would be his last poem never read. He could have convinced himself that a new start would lead to an alternate ending. Yet, he knew better. One who hurts is only capable of hurting others. And he knew he was born to hurt but he didn’t wish too.

Within a few days of leaving there were a few who had noticed his absence. Others would not realize it for months. And there were some who never noticed at all. A few would ask why while others could not be bothered. But the one he missed the most was the one who never let her feelings be known. As time passed, he never heard from her at all. It hurt yet, he was not surprised. He could find little blame in a world where so many people were hurting from the lack of basic nourishments that sustain from within. Through his own circumstances he understood that one should never be labelled based on only the worst they are capable of. A man wanted love but did not deserve it. He wanted happiness but never earned it. He was a bad man with good intentions and wanted to change it. He would live out his days alone and he knew it. He spent his final years wandering around a new town which felt strangely familiar. Perhaps a native son had just returned home to complete the inevitable cycle of life. Perhaps it is a destiny that all must fulfilled. One man just drifted away like an evening’s summer breeze. He seemed to disappear as easily as the innocence from a young boy’s eyes. What he had to offer seemed to be what nobody wanted. What he wanted seemed always a wish too far. He wondered if this world would ever find tolerance for a bad man with good intentions. And he wondered if he could ever find the compassion to tolerate himself.

He stood there sheltered and out of the wind. The overhang of the building kept him dry as a hard autumn rain pounded the streets with no signs of letting up. With one full bag and one empty heart he bided his time waiting for his chance to be reborn. And he understood the irony of a rebirthing that would finally define and then claim his life. The streets were empty except for a few cars passing but no one paid him any notice. He blended with the night. He blended with the darkness. He embraced the loneliness and he preferred it that way. He touched no one here and thus hurt no one here. It was time to move on as a man with a good intentions made a choice not to be a bad man.