I worship a monster. He has beautiful pale blue eyes and soft lips. Every time he speaks, I hang on to every word he says. Like a spider on a thread. I know what I am doing isn’t natural, I know I’d be labeled a monster too if others knew – but now it is addictive. He is a killer with no remorse. Even though he has the face of a man, after the sins he committed no one can call him that. A mother’s love is supposed to be the strongest bond there is but even she cast him out.
I worship a monster. I want to be exactly like him. Whether it is obsession or infatuation doesn’t matter. So, the more I go to visit him. Through those cold and iron bars the more I learn. The more I understand his desire. His desire for blood has now come my own.
Tonight, I became a monster. A picture-perfect monster. My hands are painted red, the innocent bystanders are looking at me in fear. So, when you ask me officer, if I have a statement to make. If there is anyone you can call for me. When you plead to tell you it was in self-defense, all I can say is – “I worship a monster.”