You Wonder Why I Call You ‘*****’

Tupac – Wonder Why They Call You *****

Inspired by the above:

Drowning in alcohol,

A man of no lord, no regard for toll,

No reason to live, a jilted soul,

She’s condemned him to a liquor prison,

To this poison of ethanol.

Drinking spirits,

Desperate to fill the void of an abyss within,

Sitting in the darkness of a cornered booth,

Why doesn’t he ever walk away,

Escape from the this cage of musk and sin?

He knows the answer all too well,

Her presence consumes him.

Perverted eyes ogling without restraint – his pride no longer,

A sexual object of teasing submission.

They gawk – taunting a foul offering,

She revels in it,

A beauty once pure and his,

It gnaws at him,

Yet he can’t help but sit and listen.

“*****!”

He rises; he’s had enough of this torturous shit,

His heart depraved,

His mind a storm of despair,

He loved her like a sister in an incestuous relationship.

A solution contemplated in his head too many times, this is it.

It’s time to bring an end to this tragic play.

As his thoughts race, his legs almost give way,

His mind occupied by a doomed passion,

  A ruined love trapped in agonising decay.

His steady hands yield to an anxious twitch,

He wants nothing more than to flip the extinguishing switch.

As he approaches her; he draws suspicious stares,

Uneasy murmurings from a rotten lair,

Nothing matters any longer,

He has been left devoid of reason or care,

As he raises his head to observe her through the fluorescent glare,

The speakers boom an electronic blare,

A knife in hand, a sane mind wouldn’t dare.

But he can’t see clearly – blinded by a drunken mist,

His own web of sickening spite has him ensnared.

Her once innocent face lost to a seductive expression – an alluring smile,

A corruption of lust – stunning – swinging over ivory tile,

Sexual contortion on a rooted silver staff,

His obsession, his jealousy, his downfall – his destined path.

Stumbling onto the podium,

The howling of fiends dissolves away,

She lands on her feet to face him; they’re centre-stage,

The expression on her face sharpens with fear, her smile fades,

He hesitates, before raising his stainless blade.

Though her eyes plead, it’s futile and she can tell,

Standing before her is a man condemned to hell,

To make her feel as he does – he’s compelled,

With her final breath, the pain in his heart is hers as well.