Noble Hate

Long ago, in a distant vale, there was once a horrid tale.
Of a man alive and not really there, of a man that never leaves his ale.
Most horrible man, the people said; "the devil gave him a demon's tail."
A curious monk once went to visit, for long he traced the mountain trail.
He found a hut so bare and pale, and thought "no man could ever live there."
Yet still he knocked, to no avail, then knocked again like winter hail.
The man answered: "Leave me alone! I am but an evil from a fairytale!"
The monk replied, his fear implied: "Show me a man with a demon's tail. The people spoke of a horrible man, who moves the storms so children wail. I see no storm nor wailing child, so show me a man with a demon's tail."
The man came out, no tail in sight, with a different blight of a body so frail.
"No evil to see here except your fate, why then the tales reiterate?"
"I deserve it," he said. "The hate of men. All the darkness their minds create."
The monk sighed sadly at the man's state; "Since when do men who could their hate sedate, deserve the hate of those irate? How does this to evil equate?"
"You do not understand. Do not have this debate. I must feel this misery deserved, or you will see darkness innate.
I may not have a demon's tail, but I must hide here from the dale. Were I to seek all I deserve, the sins of men I would unveil.
If they could see the things they do, they would against the gods flail. Go back to them. Tell them you found my body stale. You broke the hut and burned the tail, and that's how I must end this tale."
The monk returned, his heart crying, he told the people of his dying. Rejoiced they were, their hearts flying, the monk his vows all but denying.
"Why must my quest so badly fail? It is not I whom you should hail."