I could tell you a tale, and you could listen if you will.
That sometimes we are darker than we want to admit, much like a hard to swallow pill.
But sometimes there are things, that to others might pale,
At least in comparison, to hide a self image that is like paper, so frail.
There are many who claim that monsters aren't born, but made.
And some would sing a different tune and claim that they are born to make others afraid.
I've done some self searching and I've discovered much while embarked on that task.
That monsters are born when monsters are made, as simple as when you put on that mask.
The mask that I speak of is the one we all wear, except a seldom few who put on no airs.
When we hide ourselves, whether a lot or a bit, to keep from pushing out others with a scare.
In the world we inhabit, with the mask we all don,
Does it ever get harder to put the mask on?
For some it gets heavier, the secrets we hide,
But for some it gets lighter, for we wear it with pride.
Some say that things are evil, but why are they so?
Who can claim whats evil when they don't always know?
There are some who suffer greatly and become warped and twisted,
And some who suffered as well but picked themselves up and lifted.
There is a simple fact that we all should face, that you cannot ever take value at face.
For many there are things buried inside, things that such people would rather hide.
For if there's one thing to learn from diving into those hidden inner shelves,
“People like to invent monsters and monstrosities. Then they seem less monstrous themselves.”