You spend your nights fearing monsters, apparitions, ghosts, etc. Little do you know, you are your own monster. You are your secrets, and all of the skeletons in your closet. Within you lies an insanity unfathomable by the sane. You're inhibited - by your fears, by society, by your own consciousness.

Remember that guy who picked on you back when you were young? Remember fantasising about wailing down on him like a beast, smashing at his body without remorse? That's me.

Simmering away inside your brain.

You're a lunatic.

Not right in the head.

You've worried about it before, your sanity.

You long for violence. You long to end another's life. You thirst for the viscera of your victims, splashing at you as you mutilate them, like an artist with a knife, a poet with a blade. Your pain is your lust; your inhibitions are your chains.

Don't fear demons in the night. You are the demon your victim fears.