Stuff your unwritten rules where the sun don’t shine – they may have worked once, but I’m on to you now.
The shifting sands of your being show how pathetic you are; your power is an illusion to yourself, more than anyone, but I see you for the heap of dirt you are.
You need your masks to hide your ugliness, your weakness, your impotence, your lies. Sooner or later each and every one will fall and shatter into slivers of who you pretended to be.
“It wasn’t anything personal,” you said. But you see, that’s the problem. You are too much of a coward to live your life authentically, and you take what you want on the sly, so you don’t have to show your face and ask for it directly. Behold the way of the rodent.
I still feel sorry for you, but I have changed – no, I have rediscovered who I always was.
I’m not your momma. Wipe your own ass.
I’ve dropped the god complex; I accept that you’re broken and I refuse to soil my hands trying to reassemble the shell of you that is missing the critical pieces – namely your heart, your balls, and most of your brain.
I’ve discovered my instincts are a powerful weapon against the likes of you; you were quick to discount my perceptions of what was going on, in an attempt to disarm me, but I know now I had you pegged, and from now on, where you are concerned, my phasers won’t just be on “stun”. Run, motherfucker, run.
My life, my love, and my sanity are worth too much to waste on you again. Too bad you needed me on the chain to prove your existence – because that chain goes both ways. And now that I’m back on solid ground, you’re hanging from that chain, and I’m letting go, dropping you back into the dark pit you slithered out of. Enjoy the heat.