You undressed me with your malice and adorned me with your scorn. I was the rose and your love was my thorn. The undefeated champion of life's game for so long, until you set out to write my fate forced me to lose my title and turned me into a lightweight. You vandalized my soul with your deception as I lost my sense of self. Made me second guess my own perception at the cards that I had been dealt. I was once king until you deceitfully plotted to steal my throne. Conjugated me with your stubbornness, and left me all alone. You expected me to be as silent as a lifeless mannequin, as you dressed me with your hatred and painted my skin with your chagrin. You adorned me in clothing that was always of your choice, my refusal to defend myself resulted in the loss of my voice. Disparaged is my sense of pride as you vindictively mass produced my body and shipped replicas of me worldwide. If I were in my normal state of grace, I would have found the courage to leave you and this hate filled place. But angels could not fall as hard, as I never stopped yearning for your cold and venomous embrace. I was once filled with beauty, passersby would stop to stare. Instantly enchanted by my long and lustrous hair. Consequently, my mane has thinned it is now just like my blood. Reminiscent of Noah's Ark as the great flood left bodies in its wake. I am now a natural disaster, dehydrated, and a mistake. I was once able to fill boutiques with my esteemed style and look. Now instead I can only be found in children's colouring books. I recall the day when I was your greatest muse. It seems like eons ago now that I am the sole victim of your timeless abuse. I have said my mea culpas and repented to God above; eternally left questioning why I am the recipient of the most toxic kind of love.
Time stood still for nary a soul, it dragged its feet, aching and old. Blistering heat that made us melt, we were once softer than silk felt. Hallowed hearts wind whistled through, covered in bruises, black and blue. Hardly broken, but maybe bent, running on empty and love spent. There comes a day in all our lives, when our failures cut deep as knives. But you shall remain a triumph, you stayed with me, like a science. Words were whispered, curses, we'd shout, until the blood drained from our mouths. Yesterday—softer than silk felt; seems like all we do these days is yell.
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