I will never be like him.
I don’t want to, I don’t need to.
He was the evil he still is.
He burns my throat like pills:
The fabric he rips open leads to frills,
Open heart surgery at best,
I don’t have his disease
Just because our humors are similar,
Our difficulties are similar.
I won’t be the sick joke I’m afraid to tell him.
I won’t live in the hell he lives in.