I have become the thing I hated

The evils I once fought with fervor

I now practice with easy grace

I want to blame it on love

Cast the burden its cruel, cold, and unfair shoulders.

But love is not the monster,

You are

You are the son of Evil’s womb

The cursed storm

A poisoned sea

A worm-infested apple

I saw it, the venom dripping from your fangs

But like all women before me,

I thought I could change it into warm honey

I thought that I could redeem you

You who charms of old had failed to save

Why did I think I would do any different?

I have no one else to blame

You share my bed

Yet you enslave my soul

Break off my wings and feed them to your spawns

I have no dreams,

Just nightmares where I burn my fingers to please you

And I am to blame

Because rather than stop your evil

I now study it

Practice and hone it

Waiting for the day you will slip up

So I can burn off your skin in your sleep

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay