Fallen

He was built like a tower, tall and strong, his hands broad yet long.  If you split him into an apartment block, the lift does not quite reach the top floor, his mind a closed door. 
His dreams are in the basement his thoughts always low, he has many times reached the depths of depravity, no deeper could he go. 
I have been assigned to be his mentor in this apartment called the jail, the walls he tries to derail.  If his block had an address it would be a Mentally Deranged lane, he feels no pain.
He tries to smile but it does not beguile.  It is shaped like a sneer its coldness jeers.  I am meek in his presence but fascinated by his essence.  It is unfortunate that although not everything fits well, his parts do not really gel, women fall under his spell.  I find that he gives me palpitations and would lose my job for him no hesitation.  I think that I can change him my common sense dim.
We have had conjugal visits that no one has approved, the apartment block has moved.  He brings me to heights never before reached security has been breached.  I approve all his mail and hover over fine detail. He gets what I approve of not the women swearing undying love.
We plan what we will do when he is free I am already breaking the binds of matrimony.  My divorce is looming the costs booming.  I am mesmerised and leading the way to my soul’s demise.
I have reported that I think he was temporarily insane and therefore now that he is well to keep him locked up there is no gain.  Lauded for my credentials my lift would go to Suite Presidential. 
His release date is set, the prospects make me wet.  On a blessed day, I await anxiously, hidden from colleagues view, cannot show myself, not yet.  He walks through the gate and no emotions he demonstrates.  I wait until he gets some distance from the prison and toot the horn with precision.  Three beeps we had agreed, when we were planting the seed.  His steps quicken as I beckon.
About two feet from the car he collapses, I could not tell how much time lapses.  Blood spurts from his shirt he is mortally hurt.  Standing there triumphant is a dad in his daughter's photos clad.  He has avenged her by killing to go to jail he is willing.  He salutes me with glee I fall to my knees in misery. 
I now reside in hell no-one rings my bell.  I owned up to everything reality stings.  Sacked in disgrace I hide my face.  He haunts my days and nights I write my plight.  It has become a best seller, its reviews stellar.  It brings me no enjoyment I pen my torment.