It's the monsters inside of us that make us demented. They end up killing us; their venom slowly making its way though our veins. The darkness embedding itself in our bodies the moment we are pained, and growing stronger as it's fed with vanity, envy, and mendacity. It's unpreventable; these monsters aren't things we can rid ourselves of. They're inside of us from the very beginning, from the second we let out our first cry, the second we see the light, they're there; quietly stalking. They start off small, a prick of the worst thing possible thing that's ever happened to us and it envelopes this diminutive piece, cherishing it with anticipation of what's to come. And when that second tragedy strikes, it's there, a smile plastered on it's non-existing face, soon, it says, I'll be able to unleash myself. That's the thing about these monsters, the patience they have is what allows them to bring us to our ruins, and we make it so easy for them. We do exactly what they want without them telling us to, because it seems so natural to be malignant. So natural to think we are great, so natural to want more, so natural to lie. And it's because it is, naturally we are bad. Otherwishe, why would these monsters exist?