He wore nice clothing and held a good job.
A man’s man he was.
Known in his community, loved by his family.
He lived at the top of a hill,
working his five acres of land effortlessly.
and the woods
He was a legend in his own mind.
All of it.
He was evil,
By his family he was feared;
And the child;
whose body was used and broken,
pays the price with a lifetime of pain.
They say legends never die;
but he did.
A legend, he was not.
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Poetry says much and tugs at the heart, just like your poem. My heart hurts as it understands.