from the shadows i speak

i have walked this world lost for answer wondering if the world had one for me. one who is a freak so i am called, lost in this sand storm of death my slow decay, the skeletons of souls walk around me with no heart no mind no understanding of self at least so i tell my self. or is it that i am lost am i lost in this self created abyss this prison made by my own mettle is it that i cannot deal with the world that makes me this way. and even if i could deal would i want to their commerce their self forced happy attitudes all i want is a flame thrower to engulf them their smug smiles that echo we arent the freak you are you are na nan na na laughing little childern with knives stabbing at my will stabbing at my spirit and soul till there is nothing but hatred left in anger that consumes armies of fire that enrage in me. this freak this black melancholy freak this nigger who loves the sounds of bach and beethoven and paginnini this black-metal/ goth metal music loving freak cruxifi me for believeing in free will burn me for having a mind of my own enslave me beat me father and mother for loving those who you call your enemy. and those who i adore burn me for ever wanting to be a part of your lives. this wretched mind, curse it if you will. carve a letter on my chest label me a modern hester pyrnne my crimson scarlette letter for all the world to see laugh at the freak stab at the freak as i weep for all i did wrong in this world was love myself and you and for that i have damned myself to the shadows of the abyss.