Mean Ends

I was raised through oral stories, written morals,

Taught to see, hear, speak, do, no evil,

Young, yet I easily separated right from wrong,

Gods gifted an innate intuition, an old soul.

You may begin to understand my concerns,

Mind tortured as a boy, touched hard times,

Couldn’t escape seeing, hearing evil,

So how could I turn a blind eye, deaf development?

Forced ignorance would only seal my soul’s death,

Spit on the grace of Gods that breathed life into me,

Imagine a body alive but living a filthy existence,

Cowering, scraping scraps from underneath tables,

Rather feel my back against the wall, unleash voice,

Contort out of these handcuffs to let hands fly.

By any means necessary I will erase,

Even if I have to speak, do, evil,

Even if it brings down mean ends on,

Those that prey on the weak,

Power through coercion they seek,

Not knowing that the world,

Will be held in the hands of the meek.

If eradicating bullies, evil, is my end,

My courage may quiver, spirit bow out,

But my bow will quiver to unleash,

The means to reach final destination,

For only fools have time to debate,

Whether or not the ends justify the means.