Desire 

 What an ink-black 

Thick-webbed 

Oozing mess 

Our lives are. 

 Here we are 

The loneliest ones 

Who are forced to hide 

Ourselves away 

Because we are punished 

For what we are. 

 Yes, I mean you, 

The one who lies, 

The one who hides 

A sickened soul, 

A blackened heart, 

A fractured mind. 

The one who just 

Can't seem to get enough 

Of little girls and boys, 

Or the one who gets off 

On torture and blood and gore. 

 What a strange thing it is 

That our lives are 

Really not so different; 

How we are connected 

By that 

Icky black web 

Oozing from the depths of Hell. 

And yet we're wired differently. 

 You desire a child, 

But he desires to mate it. 

You desire a companion, 

But she desires to take it. 

And still we're not quite mollified 

When the bastards step up to plate 

And the judges determine their fate. 

 Because then those urges, 

Those ink-black connections 

Start to sink in when 

Justice isn't served or 

When vengeance is all too tempting. 

And then we see how 

Desire 

Paints us all the same. 

 We're monsters, 

Puppets of a dark fate. 

And no one will cut our strings. 

 I decided to put a spin on that concept, the concept of dark thoughts and evil, and this is what became of it. It doesn't help that I'm writing a story on certain dark thoughts exposing some exploitation in Hollywood. The events and characters are fictional, but the reality is that these people exist, and many celebrities have fallen victim to them.