I know I don’t make sense.

Despondent Demon Girl

You are attempting to condemn me with your eyes
Pythia, divinity, your disgraceful excuse for a mind
humors you; these thoughts, is this what you believe?
Goddess, sibyl, you are being teased by your own self
You have no human, under those eyes
You lack quintessence, under those eyes
You’re a mechanical whoring succubus
You use and you abuse, raping with a simple touch

At your expense I will not smother your self-respect
You have no majesty recognizable and so I swear
I will not paint you this panorama
I am not you nor will I ever be, I am a being and you,
You have positioned yourself within the claws of society
I beg you not to rethink your life, for I no longer care
Impetus is not my soul regarding you, I live by this inertia
Torpor masks my soul; this languor I feel is not out
of indolence, but because for you
You have no choice for I have walked away

Your decisions are all but yours, even though you believe
that you are the archetype of individuality
One day you shall look into the mirror and see
your exaggerated demeanor and you will feel naked,
and I will not be there to clothe you
Because hitherto I had felt sorrow for you
But that feeling is no longer as I see

Your sister the soul-destroying incubus
She laughs at me as I walk down the halls
She has never known my walk, until this moment
You have trained her well.
Entering histrionics almost daily,
I wonder where your life is going
You tower over me now in long shadows of faked doom
But you and I both know that someday I shall see you again
And all too happily I shall hand you a broom and once again,
I will walk away, sweeping all thoughts of you away with yesterday.