Disease.

There comes a time in all of our lives where we must decide to flee or fight. I fought so hard and gave you the stars, stole the sun's light from wide and afar. I made amends, disassociated myself from idle friends, but in the end, dissonance reigned triumphant as the sole trend. Now I flee, create oceans where there were none before. Your opinion of me is sad and oblique, I know my worth and have a lot more in store. My future will be filled with kings and queens, I will be royal as I am majestic in my own right; blind in regards to you, but I still have my sight. You robbed me of the years in which I could have made my own mark on this world. The wasted time is equal to the oysters that failed to deliver pearls. You were the straw that broke this camel's back, under attack, I regroup and long to paint you black. Ebony like the heart that hides within your shallow chest, possessed by the demons of my past that puts you at unrest. Your presence in my life was similar to that of the most sombre crow, always failing to follow your own advice, the rules that you would dictate and bestow. Like Marilyn Monroe, my life was cut short by your endless scrutiny. The irony of it all is that you and me could have been a masterpiece. Van Gogh's brush strokes could not paint a vision quite as bright, until you hid me from the world behind a veil, and clipped my wings as you envied my gift of flight. Choking on the truth, I struggle to regain the self that I lost in the fire. My autonomy gone, I contracted a social disease, yearning to be desired. Empty now, as I poured myself into your trough, I cough, wheeze and huff in protest as I have had enough. Married young to a tyrant that dictates when I sleep and eat, I hang myself from my white flag in silent, grotesque defeat. I would much rather take my life in my hands and walk the street than continue to be the malodorous stench that you excrete. You treat me like the backdrop that merely sets the scene even though I played the lead to your mere supporting role. I refuse to be consoled by your hands that lack hygiene. Obscene and crass, you continue to harass and eat at my self-esteem; like the most torturous dream, you made me wake up in a sweat, praying to God to help me forget. You forged my name, pricked my finger then let me silently bleed on our brand new life. Damaged now, I pick up the pieces of me that rotted from my own self-pity and neglect. Bathed in disrespect, I hide my face in my hands and avert my gaze, avoiding the media as you accused me of murdering our love. Push turned to shove for the last time, your supreme reign is over, I am your last war crime.