His little whispers,
"Love me, love me
That's all I ask for,
Love me, love me"
I never really was cared about. I never knew my parents. I never really had friends. I was always picked on. I was never noticed. I never did well in class. I was always looked down upon for reasons unknown to me.
Then.
I know the reasons now. I apparantly had killed tons of people when I was only a baby. The nine-tailed demon fox was sealed inside of me when I was only a newborn. The only way to save the village was to seal it inside a newborn. And then I wonder. I always wonder. Why me? Why not someone else?
All I ask for was to be cared about. Is that too much?
He battered his tiny fists
To feel something
Wonder what it's like to touch
And feel something
They all think I'm some sort of freak thats wants attention. Idiots. But the second part is true. Sort of. But still, they don't know that when I was younger, I used to go out to the woods every night and beat up trees.
You don't understand.
I mean I used to practice on trees. I kicked them, I threw shurikens at them, I rammed myself into them, the whole schmeer. It wasn't so much what you'd call training as it was working out my frustration at the world.
Monster,
How should I feel?
Creatures lie here
Looking through the windows
The world had left me without a family, friends, a home, a warm hand to hold, it had left me with nothing. And as I stood in my misery I watched all the other kids my age play with their friends, their parents giving them fond looks. And when their warm, loving eyes saw me they turned cold and spiteful. I was a little kid. I didn't understand. I grew angry.
How else could I feel? They peered down their noses at me, seeing nothing but the demon sealed within me. Pushing aside the little orphan boy on his own. That's where the trees came in. Trees didn't care who you were, where you came from, what happened in your past. They didn't care how badly you screwed them up, so long as you left them standing. And sometimes they didn't care if you didn't.
That night he caged her
Bruised and broke her
He struggled closer
Then he stole her
Violette wrists and then her ankles
Silent pain
Then he slowly saw their nightmares were his dreams
I was always careful to surround myself with trees. Always. Then I turned to my left side and slowly walked towards the tree that was now in front of me. And then I gave it a good hard whack. That first whack always got me angry. And scraped my knuckles.
And then I'd think of everyone in my class that had ever teased, bullied or scrutinized me. Everyone who ever looked down their noses at me. Everyone who ever left me standing alone, their cold, hard eyes burned into my memory.
I'd keep going until the trees were so badly torn and cut that they were hardly recognizable. Or until my knuckles and wrists and ankles were bruised, violette, and bleeding.
Everyone thought of pain was some sort of punishment. I thought of pain as my escape from the world.
Monster,
How should I feel?
Creatures lie here
Looking thorugh the windows
I will
Hear their voices
I'm a glass child
I am Hannah's regrets
They all whispered. All of them. They'd glance and turn to the person next to them and whisper. As if I couldn't hear them. As if I was invisible and deaf. As If I was a glass child. I was the village's little reject.
I'd sit alone on the swing and everyone else would whisper. That's the most horrible feeling in the world, you know. To hear people talking and you know that it's about you, but you can't here what they're saying. You don't know if it's good or bad or meaningless. But in my case. I knew it was bad. I knew it. You know why? Because I always caught six words.
"He deserves what's happening to him."
And yet I didn't.
Iruka Sensei once told me the Fourth Hokage told him that he meant for me to be looked on as a hero, not a villian. Turns out his wish went backwards and if there's a God up there, he obviously got drunk the day he set my fate.
Monster,
How should I feel?
Turn the sheets down
Murder ears with pillow lace
There's bathtubs full of glowflies
Bathe in kerosene
They were tattooed in his veins
I want to stuff the'r ears with whatever I can get. ANd many times I've been tempted to fill the bathtub full of kerosene, get in it, and light a match. But if I did, I know it would be a sign of self-hatred.
And it's all your fault. Everyone who wrote those six words in my mind with blood. It's all your fault.