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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required 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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