how does one reconcile
the delicate dreams of a poet
and the overt disdain for life
within a killer
co-existing
sharing the same air
the same blood
the same thoughts
'such a peculiar strand'
our makers ponder
and in their hope that we not be removed
filter us with dna
so that we may displace our sometimes
monstrous ways
only this mutation could produce
an intertwined anomoly
capable of producing the beauty of starry nights
and the violence of self mutilation
undying love for another
and hatred for oneself
from our beginnings
we have survived amongst those whose
greed dominates their lives
whose egos drive their existence
while others are lost
without the love and warmth of another's heart
another's soul to share in their dreams
strange strand we are
a mystery to our makers