You, my dear, have opened the Pandora's Box.
You have set my demons free.
And yet you have audacity to laugh at me sadistically and call me a crackpot.
If my eyes weren't beautiful, you would have been cursed to the hell by now.
If my hands hadn't run through your hair, they would have been hammering nails in your coffin.
If my fingers didn't play melodies, I would have been writing songs about your destruction.
You just have been lucky.
Lucky that I ever loved you.
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