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Monster Heart

I may have been born
and raised by humans,
but I was never one of
them. I am alien, as I
always was; I am Clark
Kent without the power,
E.T without the family to
go home to. I almost look
human and can therefore
almost assimilate physically,
but always there was
something missing; a
necessary component of
humanity I was always
deprived; love? I had that
once, but now that time was
over. I could hope for it
again, but do little else.
Empathy? I could sympathise
with those in pain and
sometimes wish they weren’t;
I could relate to the loss and
potentially even cry for them,
but I could do little else. Speech?
I could at times be quite
garrulous despite my normally
silent demeanour. Anxiety?
A necessary evil it would seem;
a burden I did not wish to carry;
the part of humanity I wish
I had been denied. Anger, fear,
hatred, happiness; the list could
go on and on. So what is it that I
had been denied; what had I been
forsaken; what was not my
birthright? Can you guess? It was
as forgettable as a pebble, but as
important as the human heart; the
essence of humanity. Barred from
me like a prison, without which I
was not quite myself, I instead
became something less than I
ought to become. I was as
hideous as a nightmare; as
unloved as a cockroach; as
unwanted as a tax bill. I
was an insidious monster
that very few people could
ever see past. This was no
mask which could be taken
down, it was beneath the skin,
burrowing deeply into the
lower reaches of my soul. My
gift for being birthed I do
presume and it made me wish
that I hadn’t, but all it would
take is one touch; one kiss; one
sign of lust from a fair damsel
to remove this burning pain from
my interior. Like a frog’s first
kiss, I would finally feel alive
once more and perhaps, if luck
may have it, I would take my
first step into a human world
and maybe even enjoy it; and if
I didn’t? Well, I guess I’d just
ask the fair angel to kiss me
again and I would immediately
be the man I ought to be once
more, with the queen of the
human spirit standing, perhaps
happily, by my side. And they
say monsters cannot have dreams?

Blacketh my Bones

Blacketh my bones with the foul
blood from my frozen withered
heart. Don’t look upon me, the
hideous one for you shall
feel nothing more than a cold
chill travelling over you,
along with the high shriek of
a baby’s cry from staring
too long into these abysmal
eyes. You will find no pleasure
here. I am the pariah;
the interloper; a zealot
of the worst order. I am
emotionless; barren; a
sociopathic beast worthy
of nothing else but a death
deserving of the most Hellish
of all beings. My body will
not be buried with the bones
of men, nor will it be buried
in a grave unmarked by words,
but in an underground pit
where no one will ever have
to suffer me again, for
I have already been
suffered enough and the people
can suffer me no more. At
least this is what has been said
before, the words carried on
the wind to my ear like ghostly
echoes from a supernatural
realm. This is the justification
for treating me with such disdain.
As long as I am viewed as
something less than human then
the people needn’t concern
themselves with guilt-ridden feelings
cuz there is nothing to be
sympathetic for. I have
been loathed intensely by most,
if not all, my entire
life; another fifty or
so years of pure unadulterated
disgust cannot be too difficult
to endure. If it does however
and these words are proven inaccurate,
stabbing my own flesh with a
pointed dagger will certainly
do the trick. I only hope
that nobody has a resurrection
spell, for if they do, alive
I shall be again once more,
for with me but gone, who will
these people come to hate?  There
is no one else more disliked
in this world. I only wish
society would learn to
shield its expression, for the
hate is written all across
their faces in italics.
On top of this, my other
wish is just to be left alone.
Can I not die in peace, sad
and alone and afraid in
a blackened hole away from
the eyes of the people? Apparently
that is too much to ask.