In that moment I knew, that feeling of knowing,
To without any reasonably conclusion,
Have an unyielding sense of where the pieces lie.
And that tasteless grain of alabaster, so profuse
Raining even harder now, the ground a pathetic mixture.
Blood, mud and betrayal.
Two strangers, one in bed with the **** of the world
The other, with an unamused smug, hating the other.
Pausing, the rain stops, checkmate.
For all of an eternity, how does one not know self.
And upon becoming one with filth, why was it so?
In envious conclusion, I sleep, relinquishing control.
He rummages to the forefront, having prepared.
Having mastered this scenario hundreds of time,
So seamlessly did he maneuver.
Casting away the mask of my failure,
To carve forward his dominating force of hand.
This personality, so fiendish but still me.
