Suppressor.

At least in metaphor a shape shifter. Literally a liar.
Were he only a woman I would say fat chance. Imagination.
Never came out. He keeps chipping away.
He does not care. He is but wind. Shredded soul.
Can’t sink to his level, but eye to eye I feel him. Bringing me down.
To say fuck irony; his words are all he has left.


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