No. It’s on YOU.

You get off on it, don’t you
your throne of command
your “commandment” voice
I don’t believe in you
But she does
She always has
And I, the accused heretic
preach sedition with
my scheming tongue
Do you think I bow to you?
You’re not as wise
as they all presume
I may incline my head
in your direction
but it is in shame
to Love, to the gods
in which I DO believe
Do not forgive her
for she knows what she does
It’s not protection, dear dictator
it’s suffocation
made easy by the grace of her neck
which she proffers in familial obligation
That’s the thorn, isn’t it.
You gave her life
but I gave her purpose
and you can’t STAND
that she willingly swears
allegiance to me
So you tower
on ancient stone tablets
saying what she shall and shalt not do
Blood may be thick, you jackal
but ink is thicker.

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