Narcissist Poem by Alana Ballantyne

Murderous intent to mar
Unseen chains entrap my heart
His voice burns like a cigar
"My work is a priceless art"

In his twisted lies, enshrined
Devoid of all I had known
I resign to lose my mind
And grow the seeds he had sown.

Seems there are fates worse than death
I never could understand
Until deemed, Lady Macbeth
Was a saint in light of him.

Devoured my innocent heart
Until I relinquished my soul
All I thought I was, every part
under his sadistic control

Life and death are in his hand
My cries lost in his abyss
I rise and fall at his command
There has to be more than this