The Phantom Speaks, in Prose

“I gave you my music
Made your song take wing
And now, how you've
Repaid me, denied me
And betrayed me.
He was bound to love you
When he heard you sing.”

From the musical, The Phantom of the Opera, by Andrew Lloyd Webber. For the full libretto, check this out. For the synopsis based on the novel by Gaston Leroux, this is the Wikipedia link.

Curses, cried the Phantom.
Am I so repulsive,
The monster fronting the man?
Who says I have no right
To take the Beauty
Even if I’m the Beast?

Damn it, spat the Phantom.
Why am I drawn to talent
Like a moth to a burning flame?
Why should I mould you, shape you
With the power that lies in my hands
So that insipid fools like him
Can dry your tears?

Don’t pity me, snarled the Phantom.
You know you belong to me.
Deny me if you must
But look me in the face,
This face!
I will not fade away.
I claim my rightful place as the Other.

He is Raoul to her Christine
And here I reprise my role
For the umpteenth time.
My life as a musical cliché is
A repetitive motif,
Sadly, nay, pathetically so.