Bitter Souls

The Bitter Souls
Put their feet in,
And swirled them in
The crystal blue water.

One gave the question,
another the answer.
Some gave a hint,
The rest gave a laugh.

The river is ours,
They call and cry.
Mom can't hurt us anymore,
They shout and scream.

Their battle scars
Were fading quickly,
Cleaned my the water
That was stained red.

The Bitter Souls
Hopped into the
Cold, clear water
And played.

One, the smallest,
Splashed some water
on the biggest,
he returned the favour.

For three days,
they played and played,
not seeing the posters,
or the men that came.

The kids that shrieked,
The women that cried,
over the souls
who lay by the riverside.

But they hissed at their
Mother, who sobbed by their feet,
The middle child stepped
In front, and into the mom.

She cried and screamed,
Pain coursing through her body,
and the middle one stepped out,
then laughed at the limb body.

He ran away from the riverside,
Into town and stepped inside the
People who had hurt him before, and
The first Bitter Soul ran out to find him.

The second one chased after,
Though no one could hurt them,
Followed by the second biggest,
Then The last Bitter Soul.

The third largest one
Stayed behind, waiting
For someone to appear again.
Knowing full well what happened.

The middle child's innocence,
ripped and torn and shredded,
the others slowly,
Slowly snapping.

He sat by the river,
Playing again,
For years and years,
Until another came.

He had red hair, that sparkled
And shimmered, and he
Called for some others,
Who ran up respectively.

The Bitter Soul watched,
As the children preformed the
Same ritual as he did
Before, when he wanted to play.

He watched the children
Crumple and fall,
into the river
Again.

They saw him, and waved,
Then turned away,
Going to play their own special way.
The Bitter Soul yelled,

And buried himself into his hands,
Hid himself behind the rocks
And water, adding more
And more salt and screams.

He splashed the water,
Threw a fit,
For the ages he had seen the
Worst, the most horrible things.

He, the last Bitter Soul
Was not Bitter,
For Bitter was worse than
Evil.

Evil was the river,
That laughed at your faults
And never saw your
Victories.

He had waded in the pool
Too Long,
His vision sharpened
And that is why he saw the worst.

Evil filled his heart and soul,
And that is why they turned away
And why his brothers didn't want to play.

He was not a Bitter Soul,
For Bitter Souls couldn't play,
They followed the rules,
Until they turned.

The last Bitter Soul stood up
From his place,
Turned and ran away, then
He went into his house.

His brothers turned,
The smallest one shrieked,
And the biggest Bitter Soul
Stepped in front.

The second biggest threw some water,
And it passed through him,
But burned, and he screamed,
And dropped to his knees.

It was like his childhood,
When he scraped his knee,
And his brothers cleaned it,
And it stung but helped.

He was reminded of that,
And started to cry,
Laid on the floor
And slammed on the floor.

It rattled,
But he felt better.
He screamed at his brothers,
The ones he laughed with.

Why didn't you wait,
He sobbed, standing up once more.
I waited, I waited,
He screamed and yelled.

You never came back,
He finally crumbled,
And snapped
And broke.

He now stood tall,
bigger than the largest,
and laughed as his brothers
Watching him in horror.

His eyes glowed red,
his smile to wide,
his face crazy,
his lips bleeding.

He was the Only Evil Soul