You must think you're funny
parading around with that mask on.
People must think you're smart
convincing them of your deep thoughts.
Epimetheus, dear, you were never one
for prethoughts.
Now look at what you've done.
My love for you is burning.
You dangled it above the flames,
threatening it,
questioning its validity.
But I pushed it in --
held that dilapidated beat in the bluest flame
and listened to you scream as it died.
You have nothing over me now --
I am free.