you distinguished me, set me apart from the throng, the mobs who sat in worship at your throne; their lips, their songs, their veiled intentions paled to my wit, my charisma, purity of emotion. you extinguished me, soon battered my wit, fought my charisma, tainted my purity with distrust and the constant badgering of conscience. secrets soon filled my eyes, threatening to spill over clenched fists of suspicion and, now, justified fits of jealousy. I revelled in what you had created, yet, suffered all the same -- worry, guilt, arousal, the intoxication of deception and sensual sin. my once bright words oozing with the mucus of deceit. i thank you... though i loathe you; long to injure, yet, yearn for what i was. you are my fall...
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