I limp to my corner,
to curl up and sleep,
to give these gouges,
these wounds,
these rips in not just my body,
but my self,
time to heal.
...
I think of the cowards,
the weaklings,
the things that ought to be my prey,
whose cruel mischief I suffer,
whose idiocy I tolerate,
whose limbs I have yet to rip from them,
though I forget why I've not done that...
And I wonder why I let this go on.
...
Why do I tolerate this?
Why don't I return harm with harm?
Why don't I tear into the fools in return?
Am I not a Beast?
Am I not Strong?
Is it really so wrong as I was taught to hurt others?
Do I have to be selfless?
Do I have to act like a Man?
Would that make me, "good"?
Does being a Beast make me, "bad"?
Is my nature repulsive?
Abhorrent?
Abominable?
...
Am I an Evil thing, regardless of my actions?
Am I truly Evil within myself anyways?
...
Why do I bother?
Why do I restrain myself?
Is it because I ought to?
Or is it because I was taught to?
Have I never truly known what it is to be myself?
Have I always struggled against my nature?
...
I think I have...
I think I've never actually let myself...be myself.
Well...
Maybe it's time to truly be a Beast.