The Villain for You

 

‘’ You are the one who loves to make me small every day until nothing is left

And I am the one who gathers all the misery and then turn it into a new monstrosity…” – Bound to Fail

…

And here I stand – staring into the darkness, where all we had is gone.

I am not breaking anymore – I have done enough.

Your questions haunt me like ghosts that refuse to leave

But you were no longer the person I was dreaming of.

…

Yes, I was the one behind the rusted side of that door,

But not to guard it, just to make sure it would never be opened

Like we had done so many times before.

I was the silence that swallowed your countless pleas,

I was the keeper of the ashes of the love we had

I scattered them like I did with our ruined plans,

My hands cold, my ears deafened by the countless fights.

I saw your tears but still chose the blackness over you,

I was never afraid, just tired – already numb;

Under your damaged touch, I turned into a hollow soul.

I was the punisher you chose, a sweet cruelty shaped by pain.

Never rage, nor fire, not even a storm – just something shapeless molding into form.

I chose to stay when leaving you would have been the kindness you deserved,

Then I left when I still had my chance to salvage what remained of me.

I blurred the lines between devotion and control

Until there was nothing felt untouched – every hidden wound exposed.

And yes, I felt the moment I completely ripped your heart out,

It was never a pleasure, only the language we both spoke,

Where hurting you meant I could still feel alive.

…

And here I am, sitting in silence, thinking of you in my sleepless night

I wanted to tell my story instead of the rehearsed borrowed lines.

You call it cycle, I call it stillness – the inability that trapped my mind.

You said I made you small but I was watching you fade away,

Turning into something I no longer wanted to preserve.

With your choices you took every hope I had left, shaping me into your villain.

I was never stronger nor wiser – you were the mirror of every mistake I made.

We were so broken we mistook the habit for devotion,

Two damaged souls chained together in a war of dominance.

I am only human, though you paint me like a monster,

But there is nothing we could have done,

I remain the echo you chose to keep, long after the wounds healed.

This was our ending – not beautiful, yet not entirely cruel,

What we had became something not worth fighting for

And that’s why I let silence be the end of us.

Black-and-Blue Memory

 

I held her in a warm embrace, now I am ice.

I stayed too long, the emptiness fits me best.

We have reached the point of no return, she is the foreign taste on my lips,

Her scent is no longer calming; she smells like rage.

Her touch drove me insane; I am glad I shut her down.

…

She is like a virus, spreading through my veins,

She is the poisonous thrill – then the cage she put me in.

Her moves brought me to my knees, 

Deceived – I still survived,

Sick to my stomach I stayed – afraid of what she could do

When I refused to obey whatever she said.

My ego bruised, my skin black-and-blue,

A mental note of what I will never tolerate.

Like a snake slithering through my guarded walls,

She found a crack and nested there - in my paradise.

Like a parasite, she rooted deep inside my senses.

Lost – I stayed, confused – I endured.

But in the end, I remembered who I used to be.

…

Her silence is the song I craved to hear,

Voice muffled, paralyzed by what I have become.

And here we are – the balance has shifted.

Like a caged beast on display, I shoved her into the darkest corner of my zoo

Where I collect every dirty soul I have claimed.

I am vengeful – there is nothing left to lose.

I’ve learnt the language she taught me –

Every gaze, command and quiet threat is now a polished weapon.

She became comfortable with how small she tried to keep me – 

Contained.

But she never noticed the slightest shift,

I am the product of her twisted ways.

Now she is the one who flinches at every sudden move,

I hear her breath stumble the way mine did.

The metal crate I built from what she cherished most -  

Weakness and absence of the mind – this time they are hers.

Demise suits her best – no more pleading, only breaking is what awaits her.

She wanted someone who would never leave – stolen will,

Someone who would always stay – no matter how hard it gets.

And I passed all her tests – here I stand

But now I am on the other side of the metal frame.

I am the mirror she refused to face,

Now a carbon copy of her deranged mind – the Beast is out

And the Beast is me.

Devotion Misplaced

 

I bend my knees for you, I am unnaturally calm,

As my palms are no longer joined in grace.

My whispers now are not a devoted prayer

Before your shrine I learnt to lose myself.

My head is down, voice low – where are you?

Why am I still calling you?

I am lost in your temptation; there is no salvation for me.

Your sermons were farthest from my truth,

Yet here I am – worshiping the Queen of Hell herself.

And in the darkness of your church I broke my vows,

Your altar is in my dreams, summoning me every night at 9 pm.

Like a wounded bird, I bleed for you when we are apart,

You are the confession I will never make.

With a broken spirit I stand at my weakest

So impatiently, I look for you.

…

You are the restless curse residing in my thoughts the moment your scent evaporates from my skin,

You feed on my last drop of sincere faith.

You are the siren song I cannot escape,

You are the fire I crave, leaving me hopeless – nothing more.

Oh, my cruel devotion, every minute is the right time,

Crucified below your body, I go mad.

Your silence tattoos itself onto my skin with faint marks.

I meet your muteness like a harmful withdrawal,

I kneel until my knees forget how to stand,

I keep praying to you until I am completely gone.

…

Your absence confirms that the God is no longer listening,

Or maybe he is only deaf to me.

Every time I fall as an accomplice to your game, you call it mercy,

You broke my soul so gently and now I ask for more.

Oh, my sweet ruin, I can see through your disguise,

You gave me the answer I never sought –

And here I am, crawling, I am your unworthy dog.

You built this church to save people, yet here I am – distraught

That I am losing what little of me remains – still untold.

…

Your chapel calls my name and I am already here,

Knowing damn well that I won’t be spared for long,

Head down, palms pressed – it was never a prayer.

The words I speak were never meant to reach Heaven,

My voice trembles the moment I hear yours.

Oh, my only cruel truth, I have no lies left to tell you,

You sealed my fate; I am so undone – my body answers yours,

The moment I feel your presence – I am no longer lonely.

I kneel for you the way I knelt for Him,

I keep repeating the promises I no longer believe in,

This time I pray for us to be the final encounter,

Before I burn, delusional, in your quiet blaze.

Your shrine has shackled me as if I am its sacrifice,

My broken chants no longer echo where your lips find mine.

And in a sacred hush I yield without a name,

My breath unsteady, devotion lost countless times;

I look up at you – I choose to lose my afterlife.

Devotion Undone

 

Bend these knees for me, kneel calmly,

Join your palms for a silent obedience,

Whisper gently what remains of our prayer.

Before the shrine we sinned so many times,

Head down, voice low – still calling me,

My little sinner, this time I won’t join.

My sermon is not holy,

I am the devil you refuse to worship when the others are around,

You pose as a saint until I touch your hands.

My altar calls you every evening,

Like a magnet I draw your body when we are apart,

I am the confession you refuse to make,

Yet you beg for me when you are alone.

…

I possess your thoughts like a hungry demon

Waiting to devour the purest soul,

I am the sleepless nights you spend alone,

Begging for the taste that burns your soul to ashes.

Oh, my little sinner, now is not the time.

My senseless behaviour – a succubus unleashed,

I am driving you mad when I decline to answer

Until your knees hurt to numbness,

Until the game I like is running wild.

…

Your desires fuel my absence, your intoxication makes me feel Godlike,

You sin and then I forgive you,

I toy with you until your body gives in.

Oh, my sweet delusion, I am neither a goddess nor a devil in disguise

I am the answer to your dirty wishes – I use you like you used me too.

I have built this church to lure you, to drive you crazy, just to have revenge.

…

My chapel calls you and here you are – crawling back for more,

Head down, hands pressed – it’s not prayer this time.

The things you whisper never reached the sky,

Your voice entwined with mine – a calling never meant to last.

Oh, my little sinner, now unable to tell more lies,

Your faith collapsed, your body meets again mine.

You kneel for me the way you knelt for him, saying the same oaths,

This time lost within my quiet blaze.

My shrine will keep these secrets as if carved in marble stones

Your faithless chants dissolve where my soft breath touches your lips.

And in sacred hush you yield beneath my cold touch,

Your breath uneasy, your devotion turning thin;

I look down at you – to watch you fall within.

Unsubscribed

 

My subscription for these relationships is over,

I refuse to pay any longer,

I am cancelling it – long overdue.

The trial period of this version of life doesn’t serve me anymore,

I won’t be charged for what doesn’t match my energy.

…

In an era of paying fees to watch and listen, I choose to live,

I pick a reality that represents me, not curated versions –

A moment here, a song there – fragments of what could be.

I am blocking every message from ghosts lurking

Only to gossip once I leave of the room.

I am not subscribing to shiny “memories”, filters of glitz and glamour

That do not suit my inner world.

The stars above shine brighter than any effect on those stories.

These reels are not snippets of me but lies told in movie formats

Delusions…

Of someone else’s needs.

I refuse to pay the rent to stay in the doghouse full of blood-hungry hounds.

Wolves in sheep’s clothing circling me in hunger,

Ready to attack when I am weaker, when my guard falls.

HD screens show me movies of foreign opportunities,

My compass shows a different North, even as I face South.

In a world of picture-perfect museums, I choose to be chaotic art.

My words carry the mayhem brewing in the soul

Overstimulated, hollow – sometimes shallow.

Everyone is different.

Art is not a pattern that leads to instant success.

All the ships I had are now reconsidered; some are deaf, others blind.

Even alone,

In the darkness of my inner havoc

I still make it work.

My songs roam the soul free, my words put people in a chokehold

Not because I want to hurt but because I aim to stay real

– what breaks me makes me stronger.

My life is not a comedy show – it’s a messy reality TV with no producers,

The editor’s cut doesn’t sell.

…

My subscription for these relationships is over,

I cut the old wounds once more – deeper this time.

The poison should be drained; the marks might be worse than before.

But the current version of me has unfollowed all the fake influencers

To make room for what truly excites me.

A little pain no longer frightens me,

My reflection is what matters the most,

Even sunk deep in sadness, loneliness or bitterness

I know one day the moon will smile at me again,

A soft silver glow will kiss me when the time comes,

Embracing darkness and light – a Yin Yang that flows tirelessly.