I knew you, before the fall of Rome.

I think it's entirely possible some part of me was emperor Justinian, of the Byzantine Empire. He created a codified system of laws that became the predecessor for our current legal system. He also married a prostitute (who quit after becoming all married and rich, I assume) who was strong of will and vital to the survival of Constantinople during a religious riot. I think some part of you was her. I never called you a whore, or thought you as such. You said it, not me. Though you do have a fascination with Satine from Moulin Rouge. I think that's why you'll always be familiar to me. I think that's why you were as familiar as you were. We were together once. Hundreds of years ago. An empire was held together by our combined strength, once. Hundreds of years ago. We were together once. Not too long ago. I didn't choose to have us part, that was your idea. I didn't cut off all of your hair, all you. I put one about the same weight you did, but at the same time, I weighed 100 more pounds than you did. I tried to lead you down the best path I could see for us both. It wasn't perfect. I warned you of the pitfalls associated with walking with me. You said it was ok. Every time we came to a new step, a new level, you said it was ok, or it was your idea to go on. You make these choices that harm you, that could lead to your destruction. I don't make these choices for you. Oh sure, you'll just say that it's harmless, that it's safe. You've thrown in with a man you hardly know, though you know him better than you ever knew me. But you never really did want to "know" me did you. I don't think you ever really loved me. I was just the one that got away, and you couldn't have that. And once you got me, well, where was the chase? Where was the prize? How dare I not meet your expectations of what I was supposed to be. Fine, go ahead. Blame me for your descent. Blame me for your perversion. Call me the sick freak. Fine. That's ok. In fact, I will whole-heartedly accept that. Because then you will be happy. Happy knowing that it's not your fault you're destroying yourself. No, it's my fault you're making these choices, not yours. Or perhaps your abusive parents are to blame. But no, not you. Innocent, victimized you. I am the sick freak. But who of us has maintained purity, and who has not? Who of us partakes of illegal substances, and who does not? Who of us was willing to make a lifetime's commitment before even considering laying with the other, and who was not? Who is righteous and who is not?! You are laughing or fuming at my indignation. Maybe even both. Deluding yourself into believing you have the moral high ground, that you are, indeed, the righteous one. However, come Judgement, we will see who lives and who is cast into the pits of hell. And you will wish me to suffer the pits of hell. And that is fine. I, however, wish God to save you from the consequences of your life. I wish his Son to come into your heart, or at least save you from harm that your days in this life may be healthy and happy. And I pray that the Holy Spirit watch over you, and keep you.

"Bless those that curse you."

Save the Innocent.
Smite the Wicked.