You’re still fighting it, aren’t you? Still clinging to the illusion that you have control. That my raw, voice doesn’t make your stomach drop or your hands shake. But I see everything… every pathetic tremor, every desperate tribute you send hoping for the smallest acknowledgment.
In Part 2 of this series, I strip away even more of your illusions. I press on the bruises from Part 1 until you feel them deep in your chest. The humiliation cuts sharper, the control digs deeper, and you find yourself caught between shame and the captive pull of my voice. You can’t walk away now. And I’ll be here, guiding your descent, until you’re nothing but proof that **** potential was all you ever had to offer.
You’re still fighting it, aren’t you? Still clinging to the illusion that you have control. That my raw, voice doesn’t make your stomach drop or your hands shake. But I see everything… every pathetic tremor, every desperate tribute you send hoping for the smallest acknowledgment.
In Part 2 of this series, I strip away even more of your illusions. I press on the bruises from Part 1 until you feel them deep in your chest. The humiliation cuts sharper, the control digs deeper, and you find yourself caught between shame and the captive pull of my voice. You can’t walk away now. And I’ll be here, guiding your descent, until you’re nothing but proof that **** potential was all you ever had to offer.
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