What I Am

I am still alone. They really don’t know anything. They say that they understand. That it’s wonderful. but then they pass on by and don’t say a word. They don’t include me and if they do they treat me like I’m not there. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s just my paranoia that was drilled into my mind since I was born. Or my closed-up-self that causes this problem but I will never know. For I cannot see my own mind and how I work. I can’t even tell what I am anymore. People say that I’m a *****sapien. A human like everyone else. But I know that I’m really a monstrum despite what they say. A monster. What children fear that’s under their bed at night. What myths of lore tell bring nightmares, disease, and death. Outcasted and banished. Shunned and cursed. Hunted and burned. Didn’t they ever think that we couldn’t enter holy ground because we were afraid? Because we thought that we wouldn’t be accepted? I always feel that way, especially around others making everywhere holy ground. Mommy and Daddy didn't want me. They knew I was a monster. So they gave me away to Mom and Dad who locked me up to contain the beast but only ended up unleashing it in more fury than ever and ended up having me hate myself for who I am a monster. thinking I’m a burden, which I am, and outcasted, which I am. So just leave me alone so I can suffer in the silence and in the shadows until they swallow me up and drown me for infinity.