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Destroy All Your Followers

Of the poor pitiful Ideal.
The One I too
Have given into...

You used to be such a normal beautiful perfect person.
Until the delicate silk that was you
Was spun into a hurricane in your own image.
Rubies circling in your twister,
Relentless luster thrown to you by the enticed.
Scraping off their dignity with every twirl.

The captivated are corrupted:
Solemns spirits knead into pathetic lumps.
Their knees insist to cushion the ground below,

And...
You only wished to converse...
But...

The blades of beauty scatter the perfume of future wounds.
I see tears dwindling somewhere in the midst of it:
You wish not to tingle, dare not tantalize,
And yet you destroy everything you touch.