monster, underneath

try to debase me with your hatred,
diminish me with your words
and I will rise and throw
the acid of my awareness
in your bloody eyes

monster, underneath
you  are but a terrified boy
cringing in the shadows,
asking to be saved
and never heard

such a pity, yes, so sad it is
but that doesn't excuse
your dreams of murder
you sick, sad boy grown

to a poor excuse for a man
throwing blame on anything
feminine,

she is not your mother and
does not belong in a gutter
and she will not suffer
at your hand

it doesn't matter much now
who is ultimately to blame
for the putrefaction
of your soul

it has been too far gone
for a long time now
and you are but one,

a lowly inconsequential one
in the long march of the pigs,
in the parade of the
irredeemably foul