Lord Voldemort
They call me evil.
They say I'm mad.
And maybe it's true.
Maybe I am a little evil,
But it's not my fault.
I thought killing people would make them like me,
But it doesn't.
It just makes them dead.
But once I started killing, I couldn't stop.
It consumed me.
The flames of anger and rage
Burned inside my chest,
Begging to escape.
So I do the only thing I knew how.
I killed.
I am ashamed, yes,
But I cannot stop.
It is my curse.
Yes, I have a curse.
Self-inflicted,
But a curse none-the-less.
Someone give me a hand,
And pull me out.
Someone show me the light,
And guide me.
I am Lord Voldemort,
And this is my story.
