I touch my temples
Where they always mentioned
My red horns used to grow.

I think about what they did to me,
And wonder why I am the monster.

I feel the beast within my soul
Lurking,
Prowling,
Waiting for his chance
To pounce.

I reach for it.

I make contact
With blood red horns.

A leathery tail lashes behind me.

Maybe I am the monster
They always said I was.

But then again, monsters are made.

I am their child, after all.