And To Think I Saw It On Mulberry Street

Well, I shall return, but only if I go back to the old format where I just criticize my "suburban white teenager" shitpot imagination. If openshoebox ever works again, I'll post more pictures.
There wolf. There castle.
The moon's on the rise and you aren't there to catch me
Power for full-on death in my hands and nothing will stop me (this time)
I can feel the hair growing thicker
I can feel the voice crying towards the sky
looking for the cure but only crying at the problem
The moon cold, hard, and, most importantly, miles away
You've seen the monster I've become
You've run to your Jekyll
but you haven't met Hyde and when you do you'll run back to me
and on the 28th day you won't face the monster you've oppressed
I've been poisoned with the disease you call reluctance
I've been waiting for the antidote of acceptance(nourishment)
but for now I must live in fear
anger building on frustration
frustration building on desperation
desperation building on loneliness
and at the bottom of the pit loneliness digs with its accomplice, anger
and at the top stands a nameless headstone, carved to clarity from miles by frustration
and desperation cries its tears that it is not dated soon enough