Dear Big-Headed Midget, Who do you think you are?
You ingeniously whisked into my life with a love sharp enough to leave a scar.
You broke my window, and then you broke my heart.
Sliced me open with each glass shard.
Ashamed to forgive or overlook what’s been done.
Recurrently discovering a difficulty to look you in the face.
Since first glance, I knew that you’ve won.
Triumphant embarrassment by virtue of infidelity and inconstancy.
Humiliation through the medium of psychological torment.
Results of insecurities founded by an invalid informant.
So tell me, tell me, how did it taste?
To make the “love of your life” feel a disgrace?