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Poem

...Liking something just for the fun
is no longer allowed, you see.
Every action is political,
and you are on guard constantly.

You must like what you have to like,
or the power could be at risk,
life and choice no longer your own,
or the addiction will get pissed.

And then, of course, there’s family,
perhaps the deepest cut of all,
they disagree, they get cast out,
but they can stay if they play ball.

The love that none should condition
becomes a weapon of the mind,
if they should disagree with you
then quickly enough you will find

yourself stuck in a position
of choosing power or your kin,
and history shows quite clearly
most folks would rather be the king.

To the point they fight their brothers
if they imagine them a threat,
rebel against fathers and mothers
if they think it is there best bet.

Lock up or execute children
for the power they find in a throne,
the powerful can’t have families,
not the kind where real love is known.

In the end, what even do they gain?
Power is helpless against Death,
and afterwards all your victims
will curse you with every breath.

To not know love or family,
to not know joy or real honor,
all so you can feel dominant
for just a few moments longer?

Will the powers of the next world
be impressed by the years that you reigned?
Do you think they didn’t notice
all of the betrayal and pain?

Will even this world remember
all the power wrapped around you?
Most tyrants are long lost to time,
those remembered, vanishingly few.

All of this for an addiction
that never can truly be fed?
Only a fool would worship power,
worship a god or freedom instead.

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