You were the reason that pushed me onto the balcony
To scream my heart out, my lungs, on fire, because
I could never look at you, talk to you, always adamant
That you were so destructively right from the beginning.
You would be the only one with a lifeline and we’d all
Follow along, slowly dying, running out of breath and language
Out of desire or the idea of love, and you held us together with
Your caravan of lies, belt-stroke threats on our backs.
I wish I could have had the force to tell you how much damage you have inflicted.
You were taught that you’re never wrong, the master of all,
To treat women like broken bones, objects to absorb and extort,
Punch them where it fucking hurts, it makes you feel so strong and
Good and omnipotent, because they come back, because they think
The taste of blood equals love, you know how to pick them,
You saw their grave and dig it deeper for them, pretending
That they won’t be alone, in their misery, that you will be there.
They don’t know what you can do to them.
They believe that face, the goofball sycophants, the drooling parade
Of admirers. They are too young, they have their ideals still and
You’ll kill them slowly, extinguish them and their bodies
You heartless bloodsucker, you penetrator, agitator, predator.
You know what they project onto you and you make them trust it.
You collect them, their memories, how they touched you, tasted you,
Making you feel godlike, there are all kinds of gods, you have always been
A fraud, a violent pseudo sex symbol, a crooked dream, a disturbed fantasy
Playing with the trauma of girls. You never grew tired.
They’d come to their senses
But you’re a curse. A disease masquerading as the cure. I wish I could have stopped
The grave-digging . I wish we’d all come together to bury you, close up our
Tombs collectively, be the masters of our own time and space, leave you and
Your requiems of misogyny behind, in an overpowering cloud of dust, yours,
I wish we’d all seen right through you just in time, chosen us instead of you,
Instead of tearing ourselves to pieces and making you hopeless fucker chuckle
Victoriously in the background. The sheer malice in your rotten face.
It’s so easy to outgrow you, we always had a head start. You saw that.
That’s why you were out to get us. You needed to bring us down
Before we’d make it further. What a pleasure that was for you.
Girls turn into women eventually, you could never stop that.
They call you the mistake of their life,
The greatest regret,
The lesson that they learned just in time,
A teenage confusion,
A never-ending disappointment,
The one who broke their hearts with narcissism and betrayal
And they’d finally realise their self-worth,
Never going back to the pest weeds,
Knowing that they deserve so much more
Than you could ever give,
That they’re better,
Always fucking have been,
That they have no time to waste on your mediocre tired power play charades.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Croque-Melpomene 