There is someone like me,
She's my other half,
I've never met another like me,
Her admirers, her friends, and her authors,
Her many share of lovers,
It's like I've met someone almost as great as me.
.
This person revamps their story,
These true events are oddly studied,
Her personification's alarming,
The characters never knew the villain closely.
.
What does she see?
This is how the egoist feeds.
This woman will show you how important and wonderful you are,
How average you may be,
Or even how you are so ugly,
Her Kingdom had fallen because she never really lived through me
She only existed beneath my feet.
.
You had shown me that I am too good for thee,
You beautify what must be seen,
I am happy that the chimps all hate you and me,
As they can never be loved by me.
.
You no longer call,
Where have you gone?
Do you no longer feed?
I guess you never knew the real me,
I mirrored your maggots, so they never crawled inside me —
Listen carefully,
Your host no longer eats.
.
You are putrid —
You could never stain what lives underneath,
The white floors signify my strength and my serene beauty,
I'm no longer your host,
You can never seep,
The maggots stick against you,
No longer can you feast.
.
Everyone will now read how much you are a disease,
You're now a blank canvas,
How will the characters finish scribbling?
You may swallow everyone's words,
And create some sick, single world,
But no longer will you eat from me,
I won't portray your fantasy.