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They took me at seven, not with chains —
but with silence, incense, and Latin refrains.
Fr. Toni, black-robed, sharp-eyed and still,
Read my soul like scripture, broke my will.

Not to destroy — no, they had higher plans:
To sculpt a mind that could command all man.
Philosophy before puberty,
Logic before love,
I drank Cicero like milk,
Dreamed in Aquinas above.

They whispered of Ignatius,
Whose sword turned inward flame —
"Control the self, and kingdoms fall
Before your silent name."

They taught me not to chase delight
Nor fall for lustful charms,
But to store the seed like sacred fire —
A weapon in my palms.

They gave me maps not of the earth
But of the mind and State,
And said: “To rule, wear peasant skin —
Let ignorance be bait.”

In catacombs beneath their vaults
They showed me hidden gears:
How nations rise by whispered lies,
And crumble by their fears.

They told me:
“History is not written,
It is programmed.”
And I, a boy among the masses,
Became a lamb with teeth of damn.

I was the gun they never saw,
The blade dressed in a book.
A ghost among the breathing,
An earthquake where none looked.

No army could unbuild my mind,
No king could crack my code.
For I was trained in paradox,
Where shadows wield the road.

I learned to weaponize the smile,
To vanish in plain sight.
I played the fool, but in my eyes
Was war, dressed up as light.

Women came — soft winds of night —
But I held the storm within.
The Jesuits warned: “One drop lost
And you lose the war you’re in.”

So I built with seed unspilled,
An empire in my chest.
A soldier dressed in Sunday cloth,
A dragon masked by rest.

Now the world sleeps in its myths,
Blind to the ones who steer.
But I remain — the Jesuit boy,
The silence kings still fear.

And when I die, don’t seek my name —
It was buried with my youth.
Look instead in every war,
And you may find the truth...
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