o’er the hill o’er there

o’er the hill o’er there

i’ve done seen that demon coming
o’er the hill o’er there,
spitting fire and brimstone;
just hate, no justice there;
i’ve done heard the demon screaming,
the vile words that he yelled;
had i not known otherwise
i would think i’d gone to hell;
the screaming demon looked familiar;
the scowl and red faced anger
blurred the image of his face;
i wondered of whom he reminded me,
hoping my recollection was misplaced.
when i dismissed the fire and brimstone,
looking at the demon’s face,
i saw through the hate and anger,
seeing pure and simple fear
of what the demon had seen
o’er the hill o’er there.
i never feared the demon
nor fear what he had seen;
i had no need to scream
at what the demon had seen
o’er the hill o’er there;
i finally recognized the demon;
he was a friend of mine;
the demon was running
from the lies that trapped him in his fear
leading to his fire and brimstone
running from what lay beyond
o’er the hill o’er there;
i have no fear, no anger, no hate
for the demon and his fear
i just am greatly saddened
at my friend’s coming to his fate,
i will try quell his anger,
try to end his hate,
explain to him his fear
knowing i will fail;
sadly, i will leave him
while he spews his fire and brimstone;
i think i shall take a walk,
a look to see what might be there,
hopefully to calm whatever caused the fear
o’er the hill o’er there.

 

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