Pedestal

"More, more," cried the boy.
"But why?" I groaned in reply.
"Because," he insisted, pouting.
"But I have already given so much," I begrudgingly reminded, "why can you not just be happy with what is?"
"Because you are my everything," the boy replied smiling with a simplistically definitive tone.
"But that is an obligation for which I did not ask," I protested.
"But, my little siren, it is so," he said with a growing, almost menacing grin.
I felt my face heat with guilt that was not rightfully my own. "But I did not ask to lure you here. Any rocks cast upon you, you have cast upon yourself," my voice dwindled before trailing, "...but I told you not to fall in love with me..."
Without even looking up from his toys he replied, "but you are Eve, taunting me with your sweet fruits, now I am your burden to bear."
"But can gratitude not be enough to repay your affections, especially when affection is idolized for it's freely given rights?" I asked, feeling trapped and confused.
"No," he smirked, "you are my heart, my soul, my conscience. You are my everything. I give you my everything. There. It is yours." He smashed his fist into the floor like a kamikaze pilot, laughing.
"But who am I too be responsible for all that is you?," I questioned, sweat trickling my brow, my conscious beginning to feel the stress of his life's weight.
"You are my everything," he smiled, and for a moment, I believed him.