The Birth of the Beast

O rage for vengeance! Rage for hatred!
Fury in flames to blacken bone and flesh.
Daggers to rend and tear trails of gore through naked skin.
Nails to gouge out eyes and pin writhing limbs fast.
Swords to strike heads asunder from naked torsos.
A twisted rope to throttle bared necks.

I hate you, world!
You who sired me in contempt.
You who beat my dreams from me with a bloody stick.
You who left me for dead in a City-Wide dumpster.
You who raped those who I loved and slaught them with mirth as I stood in horror by the bleeding waters of the Tiber.
You who locked me in the closet with the rats and fed me cold porridge.
You who spat on me as I lay crumpled into a ball bruised from another fray of brass-shod fists, and razor-toed boots.
You marched in pompous splendor, well-heeled and haughty, while I trudged through muddy alleyways and foraged from trash-cans and dumpsters.
I hate you!

How can I love when the world defecates on my soul?
I who was raised on the milk of bitter gall and tears.
How can you teach me to love? How?
I who was raised in this house of hate.
I who learned that life is torment,
And a bloody coat-hanger, merciful fate.

Yea, kill me if you wish to live.
My own hand can't do the deed.
So many times I've hoped to die to end this misery.

Fie and foe, you wretched fools,
For Fate has made me lord and king!
And now the seeds of childhood's Hell,
Shall raise a forest of death and fear.
I've not forgot you, hateful world.
My wrath you shan't escape.
Fly to the hills, you unlucky souls.
As a tyrant I awake!

George Chadderdon © 1992