He stood upon the mountain top; hands on hips. Haughty and entitled. Smug. Mask in back pocket.
No one was aware of his existence until he bombarded their life out of nowhere.
Attentive. Affectionate. Complimentary. Making one feel like another could never compare.
Filling his prey full of false security.
His super power? His gift? A game well played? What was his gain except to pad his own ego?
Empathy was not his forte, it was his fuel to feed on the trusting.
When he was done, he moved on to the next trusting victim; feeding. Satiating his ego much like a vampire quenches his thirst, without fully killing his victim.
Destroying a life only to return with great repentance to feed again; having more satisfaction the second time around.
What is your sickness?
What is your need to extinguish a heart and a soul that burns with such love?
Easy, for no love could be greater than the love that exists for your own foul being.
Go away, up to your mountain top, where surely you shall die alone.