I should not be resentful to the ones I love...
I should not care whether ten or a thousand of my bloodline know I exist...
But, as I grow older, I feel the turmoil in my bones.
I think things that one should not think.
I hear things that one does not wish to hear.
It's a complex and complicated endeavor.
Words begin to lose their meaning...
Words like love and trust and family,
Words that used to be a safehaven,
Become something I fear and dread...
All at once,
What I used to hold dear to me,
Turns into a terrifying monstrosity that I wish to kill...
My mind morphs and bends to my darker thoughts.
Before my eyes,
My nails lengthen to claws,
My teeth sharpen to deadly points...
I swear, 
Fur grows from my flesh...
And in my transformation,
A searring pain lances my spine...
I feel the tear of muscles and skin,
my bones breaking and reshaping...
From my back,
Wings of feathers and scales burst forth,
In a flurry of blood and sinew...
Something between a roar and a scream crawls up my raw throat...
I should not be resentful to the ones I love...
I should not care whether ten or a thousand of my bloodline know I exist...
But, I care a little too much.
Love, trust, and family...
They were a crutch I held onto for far too long.
Minha família é medo...
If they wish to see me as a beast,
I will not be a monster of my own making.
I will be the monster of their making...
Let them witness my form,
Let them beg and kiss the earth for my forgiveness.
But monsters smell fear...
And nightmares are born from what we fear most...