There was a creature of old,
Criticised till he formed a mold,
All he had with him was a wrapped fold,
What was in it was the pages of the bible unsoiled.

We do not know a man,
Until we blow his inner flames with a bellow fan,
One who was born into a master plan,
Whom the Lord delivered into his own clan.

He was not born a monster,
He was created a monster,
Yet the mob try to lynch his star,
The one established by the foster.

He hides behind his horrid past,
But all that’s inside is a child not growing fast,
Yet one whom everyone views with a gasp,
A monster which at yet to sting as a wasp.

Who ever heard of a monster so spiritual,
Yet he seems so physical,
All he wanted was for people to do the logical,
Which was to let him be eternally.

But I came along,
Like a spider with various throngs,
Prodding until I left him sprung,
Even though he could have got me hung.

The exterior monster everyone saw was blind to me,
All I saw was the clamoring child within,
The one that craved a mother’s touch with ease,
The child that would not let go of the past murder case.

I was drawn to this monster who was no animal,
I had made my decision and it was final,
I am madly in love with this chameleon,
And will implore you all never to judge a book by its spinal cover.

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