Last summer my fingers turned into claws and I tried to tear my eyes out;
I was afraid of what I would see.
My voice growls and my heart is bleeding out.
I wonder: is this a curse? some kind of punishment?
If I was told what sins to atone for, I would give away my soul to be forgiven.
My cries are met with
Now I know why the lonely wolves howl.
For the longest time I wanted to die. Now I just want to go home.
Unshed tears make my eyes glow; I do not cry.
I scream and rage and the beast overtake me --
Monsters do not suffer. They only survive.
But I wanted to be human.