Ace Of Black Hearts
Rehearsing For My Soon To Be Captors
Escaping the improbable.
Is it fate that mocks me?
With such a horrid laugh it just can't be.
As if I could understand the ground beneath my feet.
Can anybody else hear the little whelp inside me?
'Boy be patient and you might just see.'
No not with eyes so glued shut I guess.
Definitely in that there is no denying.
But am I that conniving thief with a incurable disease?
Maybe if you broke my spirits, but most certainly not under the duress of impossible threats.
I spit in your face with no regrets.
Sometimes spite is the only thing you have left.
It is not necessarily honorable I assure you, but sometimes it does bring to ones face red in the face ruthlessness and stupidity.
Easily angered is not a trait I envy at all.
How many lives has that taken this far?
More then the hands that can be raised.
Do I enjoy playing with ones emotions?
Most certainly the heart is a fiddle some one needs to be playing.
How can you consider yourself any good if you don't?
A womens trait by all accounts I guess.
But saying you become part of those in which you're raised.
And I'm proud of my parents most certainly.
I don't deny being a bastard of little heritage.
I keep hearing this man speaking me in a ignorant tone 'know your place boy.'
But no longer being how could know such a place.
It is so far away from the place I called home.
I could never my surrender my head under the guise of Stockholm syndrome.
A love for ones captors, I'm sorry but they would have to kill me first.
Come on now please do worse.
A dressing upon a wound that seems to be well rehearsed.
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