Thus strangely are our souls constructed,
and by such slight ligaments are we bound
to prosperity or ruin.
God, in pity, made man
beautiful and alluring.
The fallen angel becomes a
malignant devil.
Yet even the enemy of God and man had friends and associates in
his desolation.
I am alone.
I was benevolent and good;
misery made me a fiend.
Solitude was my only consolation-
deep,
dark,
deathlike solitude.
There is love in me the likes of which you've never seen.
There is rage in me the likes of which should never escape.
If I am not satisfied in the one, I will indulge the other.
Life, although it may only be an
accumulation of anguish,
is dear to me,
and I will defend it.
Years will pass,
and you will have visitings of
despair and yet be tortured
by hope.
When I looked around,
I saw and heard of none like me.
Was I then a monster?