I lapse into eyes of a villain, but

flames have licked my crimes clean.

I salute the world crumbling

strutting in boots which own your soul.

I climb the stairs of your rib cage

hurtling feelings into chaos as I go.

I save and take lives with embroidered drops

of sanguine glory through arteries laid bare.

I decorate your core with little packages

of farewell echoes as you beg for my return.

Absconding with your joy, staking 

my spikes in your yearning heart,

my snake-like charm surges venom

through your throbbing veins

as I vine around your body, strangling

your life blood in thready breaths.

You envision being the villain but

you can't take my place  if you

are the willing victim laid bare

on a tableau of supplication.

Your illusions evaporate as I

reclaim my role as villain,

pounding my chest in victory

knowing I have reduced you

to nothingness to be used

and left as forlorn puddle

naked on the ground.

Look at them. Pathetic. Crucifying me for what is in fact their crime.

Yes, Okay? Those laws we are "bound" to, so I broke a few. But those laws were created by somebody else.

Is it possible that we all have the same morals and follow the same code of ethics?

These people haven't even tried to understand me!

They deserve the plague put upon them. The plague of ignorance that spreads and influences the minds weak enough to let it.

Am I a villain? Or am I merely misunderstood?

Can't she see how lucky she is

To be desired by me?

I could bed any lass in town,

Yet she's all I can see.

I will bring her wealth and power

Things she can't hope to claim alone.

She will give me beautiful children

To fill our spacious home.

And she will, of course, have me,

The finest specimen of a man.

I offer the world to this girl,

And yet, she has forced my hand.

She rejected the offer.

Why does she hesitate?

Those books she reads give her ideas.

I'll have to set her straight.

I will train that willfulness out of her,

She'll be quiet and demure.

But now, I think, the pause

Comes from her fathers' claws in her.

That crazy old man has convinced his child

She doesn't deserve my love.

She'll have no more need to show restraint

Once the man has been disposed of.

I'll wear that woman on my arm

And she'll be glad he's gone.

She will be most grateful when she

Is known as Madam Gaston.