I used to own the board we shared, your knights,
I had my spies in your Bishops, and your confessions were mine.

I played my strategies so quick,
That I stole your heart without you even registering the thievery.

And as often as you breathed, as often as I laughed,
I would say; 'Checkmate'.

But somewhere along the line I got complacent
And you stabbed me in the back, simply by growing a spine.

I think I've been in recovery for half a year now
Because I've forgotten how to play.

Didn't you at least try to clear the cobwebs in my absence?
Because everything looks so sinister now, and I don't like it.

And everywhere, daisy-chain crowns lie rotten,
Like the wasted queendom of my youth.

But you,
You still proudly wear your crown of bloodied thorns.

And somehow, all my pawns have turned to dust,
And the board has dirtied its way to black.

Everywhere is open to you now,
What once was mine is yours, and yours alone.

And now, I've lost my footing.
By all rules I shouldn't be here

And everywhere I turn,

Checkmate.