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There's a face that everyone's use to. Everyone's other familiar face is different, but the same. No face is simlar, none look alike. But there's always a way to identify the "other face."
It's twisted, ugly, and dark. There's nothing cute about it, nothing human about its sinister smile it flashes you, revealing sharp fangs dripping with blood, its parted lips seeping black smoke. It shrieks in sickening pleasure at the pain you feel, the remorse and excrutiating helplessness. It's there when you're alone, but it's not the comforting company you're wanting. It feeds on your tears, on your cries, yourfears, and your screams. It thrives to see you squirm in pain, shrivel in the darkness, and slip slowly into insanity. It doesn't want you to die, then where's the fun. That's why it keeps you alive. It keeps you alive to see you suffer every meager second of your sad, pathetic, pitiful life in pain. Even when you beg for mercy in blood and tears, it pulls you close as if to whisper to you a seceret, but instead it just bursts into a demonic laughter, echoing through the walls that cage you, through your hollow body, and through your very dieing soul. But really, you don't see that face when you walk around your school, or at the grocery store, or hanging out with your friends at the mall. You find it every time you look into the mirror. It's the distorted vision of yourself that we all have inside us wanting to see the pain, the gore, the agony. The sick part we have inside us that wants to watch the world burn, and everything in it.