Yet he forgets it too often.
Still, maybe tomorrow he will leave her for me,
Maybe tomorrow he will tell them all to leave forever;
But I know that is too much to hope for.
So I’ll show him my power,
I know how to get the job done.
And who will be laughing when he is lying dead on the floor,
Killed by an angst filled bullet?
I will. I will be laughing because I get the last say.
He cannot possibly love that bland woman,
But he and I, we’re a perfect match, courageous and powerful,
Although I may not have a flawless appearance like the others.
Perhaps this is why he cannot love me,
Because of an awful childhood curse in which I had no hand.
But yes, soon my plan will unfold,
And for just one second before the bullet pierces his flesh,
He will experience my fear,
Although it will stem from a different source.
He will finally know fear.
He will finally be human.