The Beast
Why am I so dark?
Are all the Others like this?
Am I wrong?
Afraid to let loose
these cannons within.
Hide the beast that is me,
laying in wait
ready to spring.
Like a small ember in a tinder bed,
starving without air.
I keep it shrouded in a mist,
not raising its' ugly fist.
In me it does reside,
waiting, lurking, surviving.
My beast has a name...
INSANITY
The thing is...
I kind of like it.
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