At first he seemed a troubled ball of fog.
Too elusive to grasp. Too vague to name.
So I searched for reason in his prologue
Where he claimed abuse was only a game
With self-declared rules and self serving plays
That could well have been rooted in mania
Which would seem to explain his monstrous ways
Better than stress or melancholia
Until he unleashed too great a horror
To contain with a kind diagnosis.
He passed from child to man to minotaur
With a power to harm that was boundless.
I tried my best to understand the beast
At the last it was I who knew him the least.
Antisocial Personality Disorder