my true form is my Achilles heel,
so my false self steals the wheel,
I’ll force them both to take a kneel
to my archers back, poets woe,
I aim the weapon, shoot the load,
my Patroclus plan Apollo’s wrath,
I have no worth, now do the math,
it was fate for me to end my path,
I’m not what they seem to understand,
so both identities have been canned,
and with it, my sorrows, hand in hand.