The Creature before me is the image of I.
Dark and sad, my only truth, a lie.
I run from this thing that's buried in my mind.
But you can't run from terror if, to you soul, it's bind.
I've tried to stop it, but to no avail.
It kills without mercy and it kills without fail.
The hopes that I carried in my bosom of old,
Died on that day, by the evil so cold.
Staring back was my face, but not my blue eyes,
But a demon, a follower of the Lord of Flies.
It invaded my body, it invaded my will.
It's destroying my mind, forcing me to kill.
It laughs at my horror at the atrocities I commit.
It revels in the blood of the victims I submit.
I've tried to stop it; I've tried to stop myself,
But souvenirs of my sacrifices continues to grow on my shelf.
The new one I hold belonged to a pretty, little girl.
Covered in fresh blood, a little ring made of pearl.
I hold the ring tightly as tears flow down my face.
The little girl packed tightly in a small wooden ca...