That was beautiful

You always thought you were untouchable.
The kind of person rules don’t apply to.
The kind of person people obey—
not out of respect,
but exhaustion.

Every word from your mouth dripped with entitlement.
Every glance a command.
Every pause
a loaded weapon
that dared the world not to disappoint you.

You were so used to power
you forgot you never really had any.

And when it happened—
when the “no” came
loud and clear,
aimed straight at that smug, bloated face—
god, it was glorious.

I wish I had filmed it.
Every flicker of shock,
every twitch of disbelief
that the world dared deny you.

I would watch it on loop.
Again.
And again.
And again.

A masterpiece in slow motion.
The exact second your delusion cracked.
The perfect frame where you realized
you’re not a god.
You’re not special.
You’re just
gross.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it?
Every other second,
when they pointed me toward you,
I had to look away.

You made skin crawl.
You made time stall.
You are what happens when rot
learns how to smile.

The inside has started to show—
and darling,
you’re leaking.

But that moment?
That delicious moment
when the universe didn’t bend,
when the spotlight turned cold,
and someone said no—

That wasn’t justice.
It was poetry.
The narcissists,
brought to their knees
by a single word
they’ve never learned to swallow.

“No.”

And just like that—
the gods you thought you were
became tantrums in suits.
Petulant.
Powerless.
Pitiful.

It was everything.
It was perfect.
It was beautiful.