Object of Affliction

She came to me in the aura of a tyrant
An angelic thing, ever steeped in tragedy
She emptied me... Flushing out my childish dreams
The grip of her stare, I could barely breathe

Arrested by her passion... Ferocity... Chaotic supremacy

Nights were all the same... She came to bring me pain
The bloody rapture she often displayed
I chose this Hell... Object of my affliction
So warm and bestial, she wrests my attention
From a paradigm so frail, to adversity far beyond the pale

As I lay on the brink of decay
Her savagery truly speaks to me
My scars are among the most heart-felt of poetry

Inscribed by this profane entity, my bride to be
At length, time found me as a servant to her story
Am I the one, or am I only the foreshadowing?
Or will the climax consist of something else, entirely?
Once she sickens of my pitiful frame, will she abandon me?
Cast me aside, like some infectious debris
Don't leave
Please

So warm and bestial
I chose this Hell