You dreamt of power and crawled a beggar to take it all
Barked like thunder day and night obliterating every spark
That scorched the parched air like an incessant drip
At the base of a cave, the navel of death
But neither lick nor wail turned their ears to you
Until you contrived a deafening silence amidst dissent
Our eyes spoke of attention, our hearts whispered of hope
At last, our attention you have, what will you do with it now?

*I wrote this piece while listening to Tchaikovsky’s “The Sick Doll.”

“Power” by Azul Serena

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