I'm on a killing spree
nothing left to see
only the made-up me
ready for another killing spree.
You don't wan't it to be
you say you only want to see the real me
but every time I show you, you turn around and flee.
And so I'm gone for anther killing spree.
Keep crying I'm doing wrong
Keep hating what I've become
You don't want to see the real me
Cause you know he was part of your killing spree.
My body mutilated by the fight
My soul turned to the night
You just fear what you've set free
You fear it's gonna get you in it's killing spree.
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I like this poem a lot. The subject matter is somewhat controversial for many of us. I have felt the "killing spree" feeling. There's that dark, angry underside in many of us. And people don't realize what they're doing until, in effect, as you have said so well, in your own words...Unleashing the monster. I have compared all emotions to being somewhat like beasts, monsters, creatures of darkness and light, depending on what they are. You've done the monstrous-emotion thing very well, and have made a statement those who read will likely not forget soon. Wonderful job.
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