Your essence is of

pure, twisted nature;

For as you are an illness

You were raised as a cure.

You are, in yourself,

A twisted one so

That you're opposite by way

That you stay and don't go.

Your humor is twisted

You laugh at despair.

Your conscience is twisted

Instead of love you don't care.

You twist other's words

You lie, you deceit.

You save the tags of clothes worn

To return by receipt.

And yet with all of your wrong

And all of your damage,

You're not all destructive,

Not just a rampage.

You may lie

But you share,

Not always,

But do care.

You're filthy, a monster

A killer of emotion

But you make up for that death

With singular love and devotion.

You're twisted by nature

That much is true.

But I'm twisted as well

For falling for you.