Transcending The Beast

I've been reading true crime and stories on serial killers lately. I often wonder if we could ever understand why these people are what they are, and find a way to cure them someday.
Could the phenomena of serial killing be base human instincts gone twisted and wrong? Perhaps one day we'll learn how to transcend the beast.

You're not a person
You're a pathology
The disease swims in your brain
Pouring out of your mouth in rivulets of filth
When you talk

No mention of birth
Just this endless blood-haze
The unease shifts me in my seat
I pursue the question until it turns, end over end
Inverts itself like a fractured bone
And cuts me

Just like you do

You're not a “higher being”
You're a human
The emptiness grows under your skin
And you try to find something to fill it with
Power, control, dominance, lust
It really doesn't matter, does it?
Death is our greatest fear and our greatest love
And you embody the fairy tale monster
Who waits in our submerged childhood thoughts
And asks to be given a closer look

You're not a demon
You're a disease
The debate prickles our conscience
And makes us wonder if we aren't all insane
Perhaps you exist so that we will have no choice
But to examine ourselves more relentlessly
Hunt down the rabid animal behind the thinking brain
And tell him
It's over

You're not a monster
You're a repercussion
Of mistakes of nature, children of brutality
The need to bare teeth and to pounce and bleed dry
Or be forced to die

Can we undo this coiled mass of brambles
And rescue the person inside?
Can we restore order to the unbalanced psyche
Can we give a conscience to the remorseless?

If we're anything more than a disease, a pathology
We have to try and fix ourselves
Amidst rivers of blood and suffering
The virulent strain of humanity carries
Pleasure, promise, hope
Of transcending the beast

The End

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