Echo’s Wrath

Narcissus, I called to you,
And you never acknowledged me.
I spoke words of love and praise
for you,
And you simply sat…
staring into the water,
Seeing only yourself.
Loving only yourself.
You’re so Obsessed
with your own reflection…
I can’t bear to look at you.
Your wretched soul
is painfully obvious…
I see that now.
All I can think…
is how I want to dissect you.
To stop your resurrection.
To peel the flesh from your bones.
To re-wrap you
and make you my own.
Narcissus, can you hear me now?
I suppose I really must begin
my work For you to finally acknowledge me…
It would have been quite nice to
have been noticed
Without having to carve on you.
When you’re begging for the mercy you cannot ever have, just know:
You’ve done this to yourself.
You’re an Ugly, horrid little manboy.
This, too, you should know:
Not even your own mother sat
staring at your face for more
than just a fleeting moment before
she ran, weeping, to her garden where she sobbed in great heaving fits
for her son is so ugly
she just didn’t know
if she could manage to hide her disgust from you.
Your father drank himself
into the grave over that face of yours.
So ugly it has KILLED people.
I’m sure, in my heart,
Narcissus, this is…
the right thing to do…
Or maybe it is the most…
satisfying thing to do.
I’m sorry…
I just cannot continue
Loving you as an alternative.
Let’s get on with it.
Shall we?
Just hold your breath.
Close your eyes,
Brace yourself for a surprise!
Now, if you keep whimpering
in that manner,
I shall have to remove
your tongue and sew up your mouth.
Do you understand?
Are you ready?


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