A sound.
crr crrraa
Not unlike that of an egg hatching.
But there is no egg,
There is only my skin...
And it's cracking.

Slowly at first,
with no hurry or hesitance,
cracking.
My epidermis is no longer flesh,
it is a resin.
A coating made to contain.
To mask.
To shroud.
But the clouds upon the surface
are waning enough to almost
see inside.

I crack.
Emerges pure hatred,
A spirit of vengeance.
I am no longer human,
if indeed, I ever was.
I am not NOT me.
I am more me than ever.

In seeing your horror,
your fear at what I am,
I retreat back inside my shell.
Ready to visit upon you visions of hell
when next I crack.