Sometimes,
in the deadly reaches of my quiet heart,
I wish for power.
If I were to find that place
pursue it, like the hound it is
There is no secret, no doubt or hesitation;
I know what I would find:
success.
There is an advantage to being quiet
when one is not among friends
an advantage to feeling, knowing,
the ruthless hearts of ruthless men.
I would dust the cobwebs
from the tired souls of human-kind
I would twist them, turn them
for the eternal spring made by my advantages.
There is no champion for which I could not find weakness,
not at least among those who have so relished the torture of me.
That deadliness is terryfing, and sometimes, it will not let go
because I know it's there, waiting
In the reaches of my mind,
where I let it lay--
too afraid to discard it,
too afraid to let it stay.
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