Once, as if it were written;
committed to memory.
You knew my touch;
my bitter,  a portrait of agony.

Commonplace, where you loved me...
and thought I would return there;
every time to your harsh tongue.

Twice you knew my joy,
though I don't think you know the meaning.
You plotted, dug a very big hole,
and pushed me in it.

You pleaded, without so much as a request!
Feigning:
No, don't fall in, I shall throw some dirt in,
and you can climb out as it fills!

I wonder where he went?
You knew me,
and even if there is a marker in the ground,
you shall see it written enshrined for all to see...
every deed, every writ, every decree,
I know you...
a villain you shall be.