I have to remind myself that I was not born angry,
that I was not born with fangs or claws or sandpaper skin.

No.

My teeth and nails were sharpened by the stones you threw at me,
my skin shred apart by the serrated edge of your words,
your knives and swords.

I have to remind myself that I wasn't born into anger,
but rather I was forged into it.

And I have to scream how dare you!

How dare you rob me of my softness!
How dare you make me cruel!
How dare you turn me into a monster and then blame me for the blood I crave!

How dare you turn me into you.