The Rather Grim History of Dr. Well's Asylum: Frankenstein the Monster

Loud sounds, much as described previously.

FRANKENSTEIN:

I AM NOT DEAD! I live! I live!

And because of that cannot forgive.
Made, created, not born, that’s right
in the deepest, darkest black of night
rather than in the usual way.

I wanted to play. All new born do.

I wanted to love and be loved, don’t you?
Yet you think me less for I was created
from the bones of others. Despised! Hated!
I’m still, a man, in my way.

Understand? You may say
I’m a monster. Say it if you please.
Say it trembling on your knees.
You always do.

I’m a lot like you.

Like it or not, it’s true.

I don’t know why I don’t remember

My life before I was dismembered.
Perhaps it would be too profound a sorrow
to know all this head I now must borrow
once was.

He is the cause of all of it.

Tell me this and tell me quick,
which is the villain?
Which one’s done the killing?

I am his instrument, so HE proclaimed.

I am HIS creation. I carry HIS name.
Death comes from my hand
but I was HIS plan.

It’s Frankenstein you should blame.

His brain…
lost from the start!
Where is HIS heart?

He did THIS and you think I’M insane?

You’re scared of ME? I’M the bane
of humankind? You’re out of YOUR mind.
You’re scared of the wrong Frankenstein.