Torture how you delight me.  Perpetual the salting of wounds.  Reassurance in the confirmation of prophesies fulfilled by themselves.  These issues, unfortunately, reside in their place of origin.  Myself.  Contemptible and arrogant how I will always seek to be to you the holy three.  Inviolate, irreproachable,  adored.  How I would damn my flesh had I the ability.  How I would damn the marrow in my bones as the words on my lips.  I do not want to be loved as woman but as idea, ideal.  I want to be revered in halls hallowed by the greatness I have not yet and may never achieve.  In my personhood I am small.  I am, perhaps, unremarkable.

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