I, the Monster

I, the Monster
Niccolo Horton

In the sorrowful mourning streets of this town,
The desperate cries of mercy echo shrill
From the banks that soak up red tears and bleed grey
That was born from the flowing graves, to afar
Where refuge bears a fatal end to those few;
Those few crumbling in despair, struggling a visage
Of trickling paint, anger in colour, aloft
Their broken bones that held a succulent taste,
Sweet on my tongue but sour in my weak eyes,
I could glimpse no markings of bliss around me,
Sadness seemed to be the one friend in this town
That I could have; it on its throne of solace,
I another stain to these troubled people
Who in another world could have been happy
In their long lives. Alas, darkness has reached them,
Too early in truth, and I am the sole blame
Because to them, I am that blighted monster
And I shall wear that brand for eternity.

 

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