The first time you came to me,

You shone with all the innocence of youth.

You didn’t overtake me; you became an ally.

From then on you were my means of escape.


The second time you came to me,

You were a handsome red-headed man.

Our passion burned so bright that over time, it turned into pain.

That’s when you inhabited me.


The third time was in a lions den,

Dozens of you, circling around.

You played like kittens, because you knew I’d stay.

That’s when it was fun.


The last time you really had me.

In an open grave, you were my casket.

This time I managed a scream, and the universe gave me wings.

That was when “we” ended.


The next time you come crawling back,

I’ll see you for what you really are.

Your porcelain shell masks worms in rotting flesh.

You have no place here.


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