That day you re-named yourself. Believed yourself in the clear, Sought succor in some other ideal And discarded what was real.I was, you insisted, the scarlet woman, She was, I believed, clothed in blue And you, reformed as you were, Wore the penitent mask of the true. But, with minute killing minute Day drowning out day And month murdering month Like waves in some dark rebirth She, who was to be your redeemer, Falls from grace, becomes mine own saviour.
Redemption indeed. Retribution, more like it, you misogynistic fool.
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