True Monster, a poem

“True Monster”
By = Pyrayton Svaenohr

I shove glass in my eyes for you,
I dip my hands in lava for you.
I open up to you, and you tell me to kill myself;
I kill myself and you tell me life is precious.
I try to roar in rage at you,
And all that comes out is a squeak.

I am intimately familiar with Hell,
Because I have known you.
Your soul is like antifreeze to a cat;
You are sweet to the taste, but you're poison.
God blames The Devil for your creation,
But The Devil won't accept the credit.

If the darkest Dark mated with the foulest evil,
Their worst offspring would be cherubic compared to you.
Azathoth and Cthulhu refuse to speak your name,
Not even in hushed whispers in a fearful night.
Even in a room full of the worst of humanity's worst,
You would be the true monster.