Maybe I am a monster , one who wears the sheep's skin
         When in truth I am a creature with no heart
          When in truth everything I touch turns into ashes
Only people don't see me as such, I am the angel
           To them I sing only harmonic tunes not demonic
            To them I can never be the demon that I am
Nothing I say or do will make them heed my warnings
            They are drawn to the light that is mixed in with the darkness
             They are drawn to my "Good mornings" for one who greets will never hurt.
Sometimes, though, I am not a monster nor a demon brought from hell
               I help those in need with all my strength
               I help those in need in hope my evil with be negated by the good I do.
This notion brings comfort late at night when my past settles in my dream
                 Waking me with such discomfort that I jolt up throwing the past out of my head
                  Waking me with such agonized discomfort that I drenched the bed with my body's tears.
Ever wondered if you are a monster? Everyone is at some point or are they?
                   Are there actual human beings who escort evil out the door without a disrespecting word?
                   Are there actual human beings who turn the other cheek and even let evil do veil things to
                                                              ­                                                                 ­                                    Them.
R*etrospectively, I am a monster one with the sheep's skin draped over my darkness
                            Only people disregard what's inside and look at my good side.
                             Only people don't understand, as much as I am angel
                                                          I am A monster