Demented

People are all the same.

Demented, they cry!
When they see my art
Or my writing
The darkest places of my thoughts and my world seeped out onto paper
A bloody black lie
Spilling from this wounded heart
Amusing how people find it frightening
(I am really glad, at that!)
Why don't you breathe it in - the vapor of my thoughts?
I simply nod and smile, pleasant as can be
In my head, thinking of ways you should all die.