In your presence, the floor shifts into a fragile layer of eggs, causing my legs to tremble and forcing me to walk on my tip toes. You have formed an unholy alliance with a wicked stepmother, both of you feeding on the same demon for nourishment. Like cackling witches you concoct a brew, while engaging in a sinister dance of manipulation, weaving webs of deceit and lies. Trapped and immobilized, your chants morph into snarls, surrounding me like a menacing pack of wolves. My words fail to help me, as I am now viewed as the irrational one. You both seem to be driven by a shared goal - the annihilation of my very existence. You both reside in your bubble of self-love, being captives of your own design, unable to break free from the chains of your narcissistic prison. Not realizing you both cling to your own demise.