You made him the king
Of a desolate place
Where no kingdom
Ever stood;
You made him the knight
Of a lonely highway
Where nary a soul
Passed by, anymore;
You made him the deity
Of an aching body,
Meant for you
To rule;
You made him the sun
On rainy mornings
And nights
Of horrific cold;
You made him your life,
Even when
You already had
Your own;
You made him this;
Then, you made him that;
Yet now, you wonder
Why you feel so empty,
Bitter, and torn.

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