“They call me…

A psychopath,

A to-be murderer,

A person who shouldn’t be living life like _normal _people.

Mais c’est la vie.

C’est mon vie.

**“BUT IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE!!” **

Blah, blah, blah.

I’m sorry for you actually wait..

No, I’m not.

I’m sorry that you thought I wasn’t.

Because while you were playing a silly game some call life,

I was..

Destroying mine.

I mean it was only a matter of time.

So when you’re busy worrying about me

And who I might be.

I…

Was trying to prove myself to be

Just what the people thought of me.

**“People thought I was making a hit-list.”**

Your eyes just stayed normal…

Because you could believe this.

Truth is…

It was better to say it was a secret.

Because than I’d be dead.

Dead in the head.

Mentally insane.

All because of my stupid, inhumane brain.”

You’re still worrying about me.

How kind of you.

To waste your time on what someone might be.

I didn’t care to learn why.

But it was enticing when I heard you cry.

Your pleads just made me laugh.

After all it’s not like I was your final draft.

So you sit around

Waiting for me to return your crown.

The crown you once wore on your head.

When you were the leader of the mechanical undead.

Now you feel you’ve made a mistake.

But oh well, it’s way past late.

Just make another version me.

Make me into the _person_ you wish I could be.

Make the tallies up to three,

With the newest version of me.

Because I know you worry about your creation.

About me, your demonstration

To the public.

You’re like Frankenstein..

And I’m your monster.

You gave life to lightning…

And the thunder.

But you were starting to worry about me.

Tallying up my weekly kills.

While I was over..

In corner…

Stacking up on pills.

So stop worrying about me.

Focus on your next design and make it…

Number three.