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.