It’s hard I guess for you to grow up. To continue to act like a child when you don’t get your way. To be so full of yourself that you don’t realize the trail of evidence you leave behind, thus sealing your fate. To let anger drive you on into more and more inappropriate behavior.
People stand back and watch as your choices become volatile, your words harsh and demeaning. You’re on a roll and you cannot help yourself anymore. Blinded by your ego, you are reckless and yes, dangerous.
You’re a living tantrum, a glorified hissy fit in action. You have taken a partner in crime, one belonging to another, yet you each complete the other. Have you consummated your dance? Or are you waiting for just the right moment where your anger fuels your passion?
Your lies have finally caught up with you and truth will soon be revealed. Will you hide? Will you lose your shit like you’re so given to do? Will you run away? Or will you throw your partner in crime under the bus as she is given to do?
Or will you lash out in such anger that your life will never be the same again? I feel that in you, that rage, that nasty intention as it coats all in your path with such energetic venom. You cannot hide from me, from the witch, from the empath, who knows you better than you know yourself.
I see you, your pathetic countenance, resonating its darkness. You wait, watching your prey, calculating your next move. You will fail, and fail miserably because too many know who you are now and we are ready.
Your partner in crime will fail as well and in truth has far more to lose than you. She’s the Queen of the low blow, of unfounded accusations, and will sell you out to save her own ass. She’s beholden to no one, least of all you. How sad you find your fulfillment in such a horrible person. How sad you cannot find the same with your own lover.
And when your chaos ends, you will have lost mightily no doubt tearing apart the innocent. Your power is illusory, relying on the fear of others to sustain you. You’re a sad little man.
It’s over. You’re done.