I turn myself over to higher authority,
My hand slick from this feeling of superiority.
As it bled out my every being reverberated with joy,
Now it seems regret is all I deploy.

This inner war a battle between myself and I,
Siri Guru Devay Nemah,
For this desire within me is truly unknown.
The way it speaks of demise in that unfamiliar tone,

Yet I give in, more than that I embrace it.
I embraced this side of me as my eyes lit,
Red with passion, my voice blue like the cold listless night,
So now I stand here, battered and breathless like I just got in a fight.

And though it seems I won, I feel lost,
I just wanted to be found, not at this cost.
I can’t take the pain of that guilt riddle facade I put on,
Because I love it, the beauty in making my emotions a pawn.

So I shove the evidence in the chest and review my handy work,
Grinning maniacally, hands sticky from every squirt.
Now I stand, guilt riddle with more questions than answers, am I sane?
Because as I look at this paper, I see that my pen did it again.

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