I am putrid in all forms
Layers of disgust and angst,
I back out on any occasion; and yet,
I feel enjoyment behind the vex
Nevertheless, it is natural to blame the suspect,
While I blame the victim, whose sin is odious
The foul causalities, abnormalities,
Are part of a play by the master of puppets,
We dance around in the shadow they cast,
It was nice until it lasted, until love evaded,
I became apathetic and prone,
Until I became rotten, behind the phone.