I denounce you, I can no longer hold on to hopes of you and I so with this, I detach my soul from you.
I will no longer think about you, this page shall be the last written in your memory, the last splash of ink.
I no longer consider you strong, your attachment to religion proves you are no artist.
I no longer consider you mine, cling to the God you pray, maybe he will love you better than I did.
I no longer consider you beautiful, your face is no longer perfect, your body just another.
I detach my soul from you, at first I thought you were worthy of Queen, I was naive to realise your weakness.
I was too naive to realise that lust can turn to love and love can turn to obsession if unrequited.
I was obsessed with who you were but who you've become disgusts me. You become a symbol for weakness, a puppet.
