You make me hate me so much it hurts.
You declared me righteous,
yet you make a mockery of me with your wanton coquette and incessant
declarations of love and admiration. You taunt me with your
tergiversation and led me on to apostasy. Now I am damned. Damned!
Yet,
your foolish king yearns for your meretricious equivocation, nevermind
they be piffle and nothing more than ditties in your rumbuctious
theatre. Your praise, a fungacious blossom. Splendiferous, yet decayed
to the core.
You soaked in every careless word I whispered, yet
denouce me for my slight transgression. How can you faulty an amorous
tyro? Did I not declare I am but a hobbledehoy? A discombobulated
outsider?
Now, as I have foreboded, the RAT (Righteous, Astute,
Tolerance) Tower has crumbled. I am a foresaken knave, a rapscallion in
your furious conniption.
Yesterday I was your precocious poet...
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