Monsters

What really makes a Monster? Is it their actions that make them so dangerous? Is it their intent? Or is it just who they are? It must be just who they are That's the only way They keep staring As though they're my prey Am I really such a wretched beast? What have I done? Why am I the bad one Is honesty bad? Am I not being honest? Am I delusional? Am I trapped in my own mind? I don't know what to do What do I say? Why can't they just go away I don't know what I did, Yet they are still in dismay. Maybe I was meant to be this way. Maybe a monster is what I was meant to be Terrifying by birth Wretched and lonely Maybe I'm a monster by design By the subconscious of my mind Maybe I'm a monster Of which I've been made From the spite I've received for being this way. By design or by birth Demonized all the same Because in the end I'm still all to blame.