What are you, but a mans misintrepretation of divinity. No one deserves to carry the burden of impossible expectations.
You are too kind to be a ruler and too cruel to be a priest. You will have to be a lover, the only thing that can be both at the same time.

I place you at my alter as both prayer and sacrifice in one.
I try to give you away, but you were never mine to own.
But your eyes are too bright to look into and your hands are too cold to hold.

There are stains on my soul form loving you too hard. Stains from when I spilled your blood to keep myself warm and ended up drowning instead.