I dared to be honest, perhaps too bold,
In a landscape where authenticity seemed cold.
Maybe I was too real, too raw, too pure,
For a world that preferred illusions obscure.

In shadows deep, I found my place,
Crafted by the world's embrace.
Not born a monster, yet here I stand,
Shaped by circumstance, not by hand.

A paradox, they claim I be,
Molded by the world's decree.
Not in my nature, yet I've grown,
A product of the seeds once sown.

.......

Murder, like potato chips, a deadly delight,
Once you start, there's no end in sight.