What fancy words have drafted a likeness to my kin, whom are all inhuman. Unlike me described unnatural, they are blessed as clairvoyants. I say they’re cursed the same as I since they cannot touch me. For what is family if not pack, lured to one another’s’ comfort?
My epiphany must come with a soul. After all my exclamations of godliness I am nevertheless godless. Strike me dead for trying I’d do it again and hear my mothers’ rant, if only to see her face again. The poison boils in my blood burning my heart as I look upon my brothers’ horror. Hence it’s dawned on me I’m different, nay, unique...or so I tell myself.
I cannot and will not justify their abandon or be contented by my power, but I will carry on nonetheless. I will never stray or claim I’m righteous as I am. I’ll not pretend it’s less than curiosity, and as for what drives me it’s my pain. That someday I’ll understand why I’m so lost.
