Female Rejection.

 The fumes now cover the landscape. From smoldering fires of refuse and rubbish that was left untended for decades.  It's eerie to realize I am no longer in that charge. I am no longer the most vulgar and inflammatory. Such a betrayal. A sickening, disgusting taste in my mouth every time I recognize the people that shunned me for my past mistakes are now the ones committing these daresay sins.  I want to help. But I realize it is too late. There is no point this far down the path to turn around, it is more pragmatic to walk the shorter distance, alone.  I deserve the day I have. You are sentenced to worse.

 None of you will ever hear it. I'll never play before any of you. It's mine. It's for me. It's personal. You'll even come to conclusions that maybe I don't even know how to play it. But it's a lie to yourself.  I do. I play it often. Just when no one is around. When no one can hear. When my heart feels safe to cry. I could be the very best to ever pluck the strings, the most wasteful barter with the Devil ever experienced. But it's mine. It's for the versions of me long since dead. A requiem for their passing. I can't go back and I don't want to go forwards. But just the same, time cannot stop.  I miss You. I miss all of you. I shall never be free of my sins and crimes, but I will do best by others for you.  Deaqth before dishonor? I've already died. Nothing but dishonor remains.

Some of you will never understand. You either don't listen, can't speak the language, or just too opposite and constructed wrong. I don't hate you. I am not angry with you. It's just cold, windy, and wet from the rain. A beautiful day by all metrics of my perspective. Solitary is the only point of contention from where one stands. I missed way too many opportunities, took too long to make connections and reach out. People I could have helped up, hoisted their burdens to my shoulder as I do for everyone else needing it... And for that, I apologize. I like being the villain. But too often I find myself corrupted by good deeds, even if they come later than they should. In hindsight, I guess I should have listened to you better when I had you. I miss you buddy.

I'm so wary of standing alone. Before it was for the honor. Because no one else could weather the abuse. Because I was needed to. But everyone forgets I'm there. That I'm alone, waiting for the End Times. They forget that a player is still in the game. A soldier still on the field. That there is still hope. My sacrifices and losses become their blessings and salvations. But how long do I have to remain? How long do I have to fight? When do we have victory? When do I get to stand down? And will there be anyone left to greet me when I do? Or will they all passed. Long lives, happy lives. Given through my sacrifices. Only for the briefest of moments do I weaver and falter. Then I stamp my foot and roar to the opposition. I will not fail. I will not quit. You can't make me move. As much as it hurts, you can't stop me.

Thank you. But I meant I love you. She'll never know the truth, I'll never admit. So much I have to burden, so much the world doesn't realize. I do it for them. I do it for her. I do it for me. It is my punishment as the villain. For having broken him, for not being there with him. I'm sorry. Atlas shrugged, but I just carry more. I see my place in life; my rebellion for so long to what I knew was coming. Fate. Destiny. It matters not to me how defined something is. I shake my fist, not because I believe it would do anything, I shake my fist because I can. And it can't stop me. That's my power. My grace. My failing. And the theme rolls back around. Thanks D.K. , thanks T.

Don't ever tell me what to do. I've already brought the universe to it's knees. Even She will not stand in my way, incapable of stopping my whim. My desire. My rage. Reality trembles. Everyone confuses the sacrifice I make. Everyone believes I loathe Him so much, but they are so tiny of mind and creativity to understand. To believe. It's love. Unconditional, eternal, and empowering. It is why I cannot be stopped. Why nothing can oppose me. My body is mortal, it will eventually die. But my rage. It compels the universe to back away, to expand. To flee. It will always be remembered of its mistake, of what it took from me. And how I will never forgive, neither it nor myself. My mistakes, my pain, my dishonor. I stand alone.