Macbeth.

Watch my handstands, take in my magic tricks, as you play your last hand, I am no longer transfixed. I stood idly by as you stole all my sheep, turned them into your own, and then resold them for dirt cheap. You sit on your throne, like the king that created change, yet you initiated nothing, you're only the king of all things deranged. I am a star in my very own right, I do not need to spread my wings in order to take flight. I was born to win, paid the cost to be the best. Watch my sun rise, and then set in the west. I am a sure thing, consistency resides within me, you are hit or miss, living in your world of childish self-pity. Your city's been conquered repeatedly like Bahrain, I made ruthlessness my friend stopping at no end to ensure the pain you inflicted would be felt by you again. Vindictive in my own right as I stripped you of your sight, made you crawl around in the dark, then ignited the spark that burned you alive like Joan of Arc. Your ship has sunk, it lays at the bottom of the sea, all of your belongings ruined for the pain that you've caused me. First to go was your confidence, which I toyed with on a daily basis, then your sanity which I defiled resulting in the most savage salacious stasis. I finished by ravaging your sense of goodness; gracious! All of this because you claimed to be the one, yet you still failed and left my puzzle undone. I climbed up your castle only to realize it was merely a well, confused the beauty within your eyes for Heaven when it was actually Hell. I toiled and troubled, double double, burned you like fire and made my cauldron bubble. You plagued my house and my mother's too, until you incited the anger that made me come looking for you. Like the running bulls of Spain, I chased you through your town, impaled you on my horns, and then I stole your crown. You cut like barbed wire, like a rose full of thorns, so I cut you with my words and made you regret that you were born. Like a child aborted within the first three months of its life, you were the cause for my sorrows, filled my world with strife. Under the sea, you failed to shock me like an electric eel, so I prodded you with my pitchfork for failing to entice me with your lack of sex appeal. How could you claim to be real when you were airbrushed and then retouched, I should have called your bluff, no longer in your clutch. You poisoned me with words, left me barren plus bare, ravaged my towns with your fiery infernos, tell me how am I supposed to breathe with no air? Your acidic assiduousness burned my eyes, like the web of lies you weaved; I was merely hypnotized. Like the theme of death in Macbeth, you reaped my soul without waiting for my last breath. Prematurely murdered by a mouse who claimed to be a man, wait for my return, I will regain control of this land. I am a king, I was made to rule the world, you are merely an oyster, obsolete, as you failed to deliver my pearl. Classy lady karma will surely have her way with you, so I will sit back, relax and kick back waiting for what's long overdue. Divine intervention will be the cause of your death, your face unrecognizable like a heavy user of crystal meth. I will surround myself, as I live a life filled with beauty; I am as sweet and fragrant as the most wonderful potpourri. Your services are no longer needed, so you have been given the pink slip, goodbye; I vow to never again kiss those lips that rarely soothed me like a lullaby. Over and done, I walk away from the remnants of your disaster, if you had listened to my words of wisdom, you would have realized I was the master. All that is left for you is buried six feet underground, lost but I was found but your fifteen minutes of lame are over, and your sailors have all drowned. You should have abandoned ship and perhaps your luck would have changed, now you walk the world alone, crazy and deranged. Grab a hold of the nearest person you can find, then you can take them down with you, let them drink of you like cheap wine. My work here is done, I can move on to higher pastures; I hope life gives you what you deserve in the sweet hereafter. Rest in pieces, not peace for the disarray you gave to me; the dissonance no longer triumphs. I am finally free.