Madness

The hurt is deep inside my soul,

Transforming into a beast.

It snarls and snaps at me,

Leaving trails of pure white blood.

 

After the cloud road runs out,

All that's left inside that beast is pitch.

it tries to escape, but is trapped,

And it makes use of what it has.

 

It begins my changing the person,

Just a little everyday.

Of course, no one notices,

For the beast makes sure of that.

 

It starts by creating new habits,

Sch as nervousness or violence.

Then moves on to greater things,

Including rage and irrational fear.

 

The beast howls every night,

But no one seems to hear.

It slices at my soul,

Yet somehow I keep it in.

 

It goes to further measures to exhaust me,

Not limited to the following:

Murder, theft, and secrets,

Or even become more desperate.

 

It cannot escape,

For this, it has accepted.

It is destined to be in my soul forever,

And that beast will be the death of me.