There he was chasing me like Billie Jean and pointing his bastard children to Me.

A dog to be precise.
Atleast Billie Jean was just a girl claiming a baby daddy.
Chances are; he probably was.

But this particular man was a problem.
The moment he realised he couldn't have me, he tried everything in his limited power to have Mine.

So he lived a lie.
Even less appeasing as he was himself.

Not a single thing I did he didn't keep tabs on.
He was obsessed and out of his mind.

Somehow that happened with every man I'd encounter.
They didn't fall for me; they crashed hard for Me.

Forming coalitions to trap Me like a bitch trying to trap a guy with a baby.

The impossibilities in this case scenario were higher than the devil on his specialised drug.

They would always fail just as they always failed.

They could only ever dream about Me.
He had to lower his standards because he was aiming too high.

I was the Moon and he was an ambitious speck of dust.

He couldn't live with the idea that there was abundant life outside of his narcissistic sphere.

He just wouldn't leave me alone.
He just wouldn't let me be.

Reality to him was the end.
Because it would leave him with nothing but lies and madness.

The poor Man was fighting Reality with hopes that it would change everything.

Hopes that one day he'd own Me.

He was obsessed.
He was insane.
He was in denial.
He was a poor little sod that had to humble himself to the ripple consequences of his own actions.

I was Married to a King Now.
And he had to submit and obey.

And let go.
© Robyn Windsor