Allow me to be conceited,
And use this ink for myself.
These words are not for you,
I wrote these for no one else.
For once, I wrote for me.
But I wrote these words,
As I recalled how I was consumed
In your labyrinth of a world.
Enveloped by your deceptive warmth,
And tricked by your hypnotic gazes.
Being fooled by your empty vows,
The  pitiful reality is...
I wrote these words for me,
What I'm saying is true.
Tragically, these words are born,
From thoughts of no one else but you.