Arrowed Cupid: 5 of 7

You may call I queer, black trash, or both
But I used to be great: Twisted and dark humor,
Formulated an accepted format
In which I presented myself,
With sparks of enlightened evil deeds,
Embedded deeply in my eyes
Scooped up by intruders
Regardless of their original intentions
I knew, it was all meaningless
Little of a choice or opinion, like
The teenager next door,
I possessed: Never to abandon
A mission I was on
Those who diverted I,
From my destined and intended mission,
I carefully and cheerfully destroyed
Though later on I realized
So much time I wasted in the process
An altered route, I took
Straightening out an already, misguided mission
The she who refused,
To get dirty in my dirty place
Earned herself a spot,
On my newly discovered altered route
My mission, was my mission
Everything had to be done, in a precise way,
It was originally and accurately intended
A weakened heart of mine, by her,
I arrowed through,
Not allowing destruction of works
Planned for centuries

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