Monster's end

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Do you know how thin the skin lies 
on a monster with a man's eyes.
How deep his claws can cut
when all he wants to do is hurt.
When he lashes out from left to right
with not a worry about who's on his side.
When all he cares about is to burn
this world down, which doesn't turn
just the way he wants it to,
which doesn't dance to his tunes.
Who mourns the death of the man inside,
what do you call such a beast?
When has it seen naught but wants and needs
which higher calling did it ever heed.
Fall it must, such a monster,
into the dark abyss of it's own making.
A tomb deep enough to drown
out the sound of its terrible wailing.
Nameless, friendless, alone to the end,
misheard and bitter, to the very end.

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