I long to hurt people, but only those that have ruined or taken lives.
Does this make me evil?
I am human, yet that part of me sickens me to my core.
Does this make me disturbed?
Deep down inside I want to be a lone and I want to enjoy being alone.
Is thing wrong?
I look at people and see not a member of the same species, but a creature I have nothing in common with.
Does this make me arrogant?
I simply want to give into the voices and the darkness that whispers from the edge of my consciousness.
Does this prove that I am twisted?
For all of this, I am considered a good man. But deep down I am truly broken and corrupted by the blackness and the pain inside of me.
Am I so broken and mangled that I am no longer human?
If I am what does that make me?
Am I evil?
Am I a monster?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem