Well temporarily bad
At least
A vocation
They depart into a wood
In a blank state
And decide to take
The fork in the path
Which extends into gradually
Dimming darkness
To be bad
First one must be lonely
Feel rejected
One reaches for cruelty
Like reaching for a cookie
From a jar
On the upper shelf
Maybe it will bring relief
It does not
But the habit forms
The meanness
The misery
Like falling rain
Forming gullies
Within the person
One becomes the man
Disliked or feared
He of whom others
Dream of attacking violently
Perhaps he knows this
And the rain falls harder
Digging deeper gullies
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