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Cynical Insanity
In the irises of your heart,
what I found with disheartened disbelief;
was a creature unbound of its own limitations,
your crippling sorrow,
and the miniscule fraction of my own being,
compared to all those other lairs and traitors.
How could I,
the one that loved you,
the one that protected you,
the one that took your thrashings only to ease it with soothing words,
be so small in your mind?
When you held,
the ones that hurt you,
the ones that hated you,
the ones that wished to slowly destroy you from the inside out,
so much closer to your heart with dear?
And Yet...
In the steel wrappings of my heart,
what I learned with demolishing uncertainty;
was the marionette strings of a puppet,
my condemned raging beast,
and the flickering jealousy of recoiled rage pointed at you,
when I dared to say that I loved you most.
How was it,
that I hated you,
that I loathed you,
that I kept you so far away from my heart,
I unmistakeably kept you at arm's bay?
Alas, why is it,
I who holds the silent tongue,
I who keeps your misery away,
I who plots you future reckoning to your death day,
with a slowly, deep, passionate anger?
With a Cheshire smile,
the world rotates slowly,
as my jacket binds me from this Earth,
as I await,
so ever so slowly,
await I repeat,
to escape this padded room,
TO GET TO YOU!
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