It does afford me small favors though, having this thing inside me, it lets me write very well and with much ease for my antagonists. I've read of other authors that have trouble writing for their antagonists. I just do not; I simply think of what I would have to hold back and keep that beast from doing in any situation, and then let him go ahead and do it. It's actually very therapeutic writing for my villains. So, does that make me a bad guy? I often ask myself that question. I don't think so at all. Rather I am still the hero of my own story, because I hold that beast in check, always. If anyone else out there has a similar beast that hold in check, this poem is for you my friend.
The Beast
It spills from deep within,
It burns my head and heart,
It fills my mind with sin.
Thoughts of murder slow and sweet,
To bleed you out, puddles at my feet.
Flashes of rage -primal- and white hot,
My damp basement; your grave plot.
Simply put, you poke the beast;
Oh so soon it will have to feast.
Nothing left but scraps and gore,
Stains that will never wash from the floor.
It already hunts you, can't you see?
Yet you don't even try to flee.
You just stand there with that stupid grin;
I'm so close to giving in.
Let the beast roar and pounce,
Eat you up, ounce by ounce.
Smack it's lips with a Cheshire's grin,
Stop oh, please stop, before I give in.