What a Monster

What a Monster

There is a creature
of many parts
A dream, a scream,
a thought and a heart

The creature has rot
and the creature has fire
the creature is called
a love, thief, saint and a liar.

It would stand in the light
but would burn like wood
It would stand in the night
but wants to be good.

The creature would reach
grasp for the hand above
and would let go
to save the one it loves

But the creature would reach
for the hand above
and would do so
for its true love.

Yet the creature's love
and yet the creature's hate
Both abide in the same
and both will not abate.

Truly, it is a wretched thing,
torn apart by its own desire
frozen by its own hatred
and burned by its own fire

Pity it not,
for it needs none,
love it not,
for it deserves shun!

It weeps in the open
with pitiable look
but beware the creature
for it's a horrid crook

It knows your pity
and knows your mind
It will slash at you
to make you blind

For it knows the ways
the tricks and the trade
it will gut you and eat you
with tooth, claw, nail, blade.

It deserves fire,
and yet it lives
it deserves death
for all it gives

Perhaps the hand's mercy
is more of a curse,
but it feels a blessing
for it once was worse.

The creature smiles
and weeps and cries
For it wishes death
for its sins and lies.

The mirror reflects
the creature knows
For it only believes
when it snows.

Why do all
see only the shade
and never the knife
and never the blade?